He isn’t exactly sure why the brass thought he of all people would be helpful in restoring your mental health to its original state, after your mind had been broken and twisted during your time spent in a rather infamous cult, one that TF-141 had been assigned to take down. They were all shocked to find you there, to put it lightly. You’d been a rather high-ranking member of the special forces before your disappearance four years ago—and what a shock it was to everyone to find the bold, headstrong woman they’d known reduced to a mere shell of the strong girl she’d once been.

Simon sympathised for you, of course—he’d spent his fair share of time in places like that, only he’d been able to resist the brainwashing, and you, evidently, hadn’t. However, as much as he sympathised with you, how much were they really hoping to achieve, tasking him with something that requires time, patience, love and gentleness? None of those words describe Simon—or that’s what he’d like to believe at least.

As he sits with you, watching as you stare down at the cup of coffee in your lap with that same blank, far-off look in your eyes, the one that seems permanently etched into your face, he lets out a deep sigh. “What’cha thinking about?” He asks quietly, his voice gruff and heavy with exhaustion. “Anything I wanna know about?”