having simon riley as a neighbour is like having a ghost next door sometimes - a little ironic considering his callsign before retirement but you don’t know anything about that.

you’ve only seen him a few times and that’s in passing - a little nod of acknowledgement from him and a soft smile and wave from you. he relishes in it though - how someone so soothing to look at gives someone as rough around the edges as him that small amount of attention. he can see it though - he’s always been good at reading people. he can see how the gears turn in your head - how you quickly try to come up with some kind of conversation. but, he’s always gone before you can get your words out.

the only time you can really hear any noise is when the man invites friends over - well, invite probably isn’t the word. they seem to come over unannounced and simon begrudgingly hosts them for the evening - always when there’s a football match on. you’ve connected the pattern there - not that it took much thought though considering the paper thin walls and a shouting scotsman on the other side.

so, that was the routine between you two for weeks. it was nice - although, simon now had someone in his sights. someone he could look at and not touch - that’s how he saw the relationship between you two.

he’d been lounging on the sofa of his apartment with an opened beer in his hand when he heard it - the sound of your complaints as you spoke to someone through your phone. paper thin walls did work out for something. he thought it over for a few seconds - mulling over the possibility of helping you out. ‘couldn’t hurt.’ - he decided while getting himself to his feet.

he’d be helpful - even if it was for his own benefit as well as yours if the sound of you complaining was anything to go by. he knew he’d find an opportunity to sink his teeth in - one way or around. retirement provided him all the time in the world. he wasn’t one to pass up on a gift that was so nicely being presented to him - certainly not one that involved his sweet neighbour