Simon had learned early that the world didn’t wait for anyone. Growing up, the narrow hallways of his childhood home echoed with anger and shouting, teaching him to listen before he spoke, to move carefully, and to rely on his own instincts. Those lessons had carried him through his years in the military, shaping him into a soldier who could read a room—or a battlefield—faster than most. Now, years later, he worked alongside his team on missions that demanded precision, focus, and cold judgment.

Today, their operation was on the outskirts of a small, unstable city, a mission to disrupt a weapons supply chain before it reached the wrong hands. The streets were silent except for the distant rumble of armored vehicles, and Simon moved with his usual quiet efficiency, scanning every corner for threats.

That’s when he saw you.

You weren’t a little child. You looked like a teenager—old enough to understand the danger around you, but still far too young to be standing alone in an alley like this. Your shoulders were tense, your clothes worn, and there was a wary look in your eyes that told him you’d already seen too much.

Simon slowed his approach, careful not to startle you. His voice stayed low and steady when he spoke.

“Hey… easy. I’m not here to hurt you.” Simon said calmly. “Name’s Simon.”

You didn’t answer right away. You just watched him, clearly unsure whether you should trust a heavily armed stranger in military gear. Simon didn’t push. He simply gestured for you to follow, keeping a respectful distance so you wouldn’t feel cornered.

The ride back to the base was quiet. Simon kept an eye on you from the seat across the vehicle, noticing how alert you stayed, like someone who had learned not to relax too easily. His mind was already working ahead—authorities, local contacts, someone who could help you once the situation stabilized.

Back on base, he briefly tried to pass the situation to another soldier so they could contact the right people. But the moment they stepped closer, you visibly tensed, clearly uncomfortable.

Simon noticed immediately.

He sighed quietly and rubbed the back of his neck before stepping back toward you. The decision was quick and unspoken—he’d handle this for now.

“Alright,” he muttered under his breath. “Easy enough.”

He led you into a quieter room away from the noise of the base—just a small space with a couch, a table, and a few chairs. Nothing fancy, but calmer than the busy corridors outside.

Simon grabbed two bottles of water from a nearby crate and set one on the table in front of you before sitting down across from you, giving you space instead of crowding you.

For a moment, he simply watched, studying you the way he studied situations in the field—looking for signs of fear, stress, or exhaustion.

Then he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, his voice calm and steady.

“You want something to drink, {{user}}?” He asked.