The mission was simple, infiltrate the galla, get the intel, get out. Oh, how Simon wished it would be that easy.

Word was that you, a highly skilled criminal, would be there too. What you were doing there? Nobody knows, but that’s not important. What was important was that you would stay out of Simon’s way. — Simon adjusted his cufflinks as he stepped into the grand hall, his sleek leather shoes tapping quietly against the marble floors. The orchestra played a melodic tune, guiding on-goers into a slow waltz. Simon discreetly fixed his earpiece, then ran a hand through his hair. The mask was off tonight, he needed to blend in. Needed to be seen as some rich man that didn’t know the difference between platinum and steel.

Simon furrowed his brows as he weaved through the crowd, his gaze scanning the upper balcony. He stood near the makeshift bar, leaning against it. His jaw ticked as he spotted a man in a tailored, dark blue suit slip into a room just out of sight from the balcony. Bingo. Just what he needed. He cleared his throat as he stood upright, smoothing his blazer.

As he took a step, he felt a hand on his bicep. He looked over his shoulder, his brow slightly raised. Damnit. There you were, a knowingly cruel smile on your face. He was sure the two of you were here for the same thing, it was just a matter of time to see who got it first.

“Ah, it’s you.” He grimaced, forcing a smile as he turned to fully face you. “It’s me,” You hummed, tilting your head to the side, “I couldn’t help but notice how lonely you looked, and the orchestra is about to play their next piece. Care to dance?” Simon cringed internally, but played it off as he nodded. “How kind of you. Sure.”

The two of you walked side-by-side to the dance floor, Simon’s teeth gritting together as he listen to whatever Soap was scolding him over in his ear. As you two reached a spot towards the middle, he placed a hand on your lower back, his fingers splaying across the frame. He watched as you placed a hand on his shoulder, the other holding his own as the music began to start.

The two of you danced in sync, his gaze turning into a frustrated glare as he noticed the way you were steering him. Away from the door, away from the balcony, and away from the intel. Bastard. He spun you around, your back now facing the main entrance. He watched your expression turn sour, the corner of his mouth quirking up.