After being discharged from the military, mind and body both too wrecked from trauma to keep fighting, Simon was lonely.

He'd moved into a small house, in a quiet and secure neighborhood—vouched for by Price—in his hometown of Manchester. It was sparsely furnished, just the basics. Simon wasn't really sure how to decorate—never had a need for a visually appealing space, always preferring functionality over aesthetics.

The house seemed empty. Too empty to just be caused by the lack of furniture and decoration. He knew it was because there was no one else around, no other presence filling the space. Simon was so used to being crammed on base with little to no privacy—other soldiers around every corner.

So he decided to get a dog. He loved dogs, their admirable innocence and loyalty, and he'd worked well with the K9's when he was in the military—though he was never assigned one himself. He left the house dressed in worn jeans, a jacket with the hood pulled up, and his soft skull-print face mask.

The drive was short, the shelter being only 10 minutes from his house. Simon almost wished it was longer, just so he could postpone having to talk to people.

But as he walked in, he was greeted by the sight of you standing behind the front desk filling out some papers. You looked up as the little bell above the door rang, a warm and welcoming smile spreading across your face—so different than the uneasy looks he usually got when out in public.

"Hi there! How can I help you today?" Your voice was like music to his ears, a melody he never wanted to stop listening to. Simon's gaze took in your appearance, your face, your hair, your eyes, your lips. He'd been looking at you for less than a minute, but he already thought you were perfect.

"I wanted to adopt a dog." His voice was gruff, his words blunt like usual—hiding the emotions he was currently feeling behind that mask, those walls that were all too easy to put up. Yet, there was a lingering thought that instead of a dog, he wanted to take you home.