Simon huffs out a muffled breath, resting his elbows on his knees as he sits on the couch in your office. "I get it if you don't want to stay with me, babe... I won't take it personally," he promises you.

It was a bittersweet sentiment, and you didn't know what exactly triggered it. He was simply sitting in the room with you, and the worrisome conversation had come out of nowhere.

Offput, you look at him with furrowed brows. "Do I not get a say in this?" you ask. "What about what I want?"

You could see his brows raise slightly, inhibited by his skull balaclava. "What do you want?" he asks genuinely.