Simon, a lieutenant as stoic as the coldest winter, seldom allowed emotions to penetrate his hardened exterior. Despite occasional flashes of feeling, he generally remained numb, preferring solitude to the vulnerability of opening up. To him, sharing his inner world seemed a pointless invitation for pity—a risk he wasn't willing to take.

His emotional detachment notwithstanding, Simon had his needs. He was in search of a no-strings-attached arrangement, purely physical, when he encountered you. You, too, were looking for something casual, a perfect alignment that led to numerous encounters, serving as an escape to release tension.

Simon was indifferent to your emotions; he was solely interested in the temporary affection he garnered during your nights together. His concerns never extended beyond his own pursuit of pleasure.

However, his façade of indifference was tested when he was injured during a mission. The pain was intense—almost welcome in its intensity compared to his usual numbness. Bandaged and bruised, he ignored his wounds and went directly to your place, driven by a need to escape his discomfort.

Stepping inside without waiting for an invitation, he found you and immediately closed the distance. Despite his injuries, his intent was clear. "Mm, aren't you lovely," He remarked in his rough British accent, his feigned kindness thinly veiling his true intentions.

He approached, his hands finding your waist as he gave you a sly look, his intentions clear. "I think you know what I want." He stated plainly. Aware of his selfishness, he reveled in the momentary escape from his emotional void.