Simon thought it was a bad idea. He really thought so. Of course, their team wasn't nerdy, completely focused only on work, they went to places to relax, but usually it was a pub or Johnny's perpetually bachelor apartment. But not now.

"Damn restaurant? Captain, you crazy?"

"Shut your mouth, Garrick. They serve good steaks there."

And so the four of them ended up here, in a restaurant that couldn't be called luxury, but it was still something more decent than a diner by the highway. Simon even put on a shirt, for God's sake. And he took off his balaclava.

This is the first and last time, I swear.

The place was well suited to celebrate a successful mission in Serbia. This deployment lasted six months, and the missions had three difficult stages, after each of which everyone remained exhausted. But it was finally over. And it's time to celebrate it.

"Hello and welcome. I'll be your waiter for today."

Simon had barely opened the menu when your voice rang out next to him, and he looked up. That's how it all started. By the sparkle in your eyes and the curve of your lips with a polite smile, he knew that this evening was going to be difficult.

And so it turned out. All the guys got their dishes, and while Johnny was complaining that the place was too cool to serve beer, Simon couldn't take his eyes off you. He couldn't understand what could have attracted him to you so much, but your insistent gaze in response didn't make him want to immediately hide his face under the missing balaclava.

You answered back. You stared back at each of his glances without looking away. When you brought his steak, you stood especially close to his chair, and he could feel the warmth of your body. It was flirting, damn it. But secretive, visible only to the two of you.

Simon clenched his fists, watching you bring the bill to the other table. And while his gaze followed your back, there was one question in his head: "Am I too old to ask for a number?"