"You've got a better one, haven't you?" He was looking around your one-bedroom-one-bathroom apartment briefly as you changed into a different outfit. One appropriate for getting eloped in. Simon was dressed in his formal military uniform without his mask, which what you were used to. But, You thought it was appropriate to walk out of your apartment to greet him shorts and a tank top.

The weather might've deemed it appropriate, but Simon was a stickler for more or less "traditional" ideas of at least dressing a little nicely to the courthouse. So, he's highly encouraging that you change. An idea that you were less than overjoyed for, but you found yourself returning to your apartment anyway.

"Define better." Your voice was monotone as usual, pulling the tank top over your head carelessly. Simon had just glanced unknowingly--stupidly--to see your bare back along with the art supplies you had strung around your messy bedroom. Of course, he was used to a perfectly neat military bunk.

"I--" He'd been caught staring. "Sorry, uh--" The awkward stammering continued until you slammed your bedroom door in his face. Fair enough, He thought to himself. The marriage isn't much more than convenience. Simon wanted someone to come home to, and you could really use the extra cash. Favors for a friend, strictly.

"Is this good enough for you, Commando?" Your hands were dramatically on the doorframe, striking a joking pose that belonged in a boudoir photoshoot. He couldn't care less, looking at that vintage cream dress that draped perfectly on your body. Lust couldn't describe his thoughts, but rather an enchanting delight. The corner of his unmasked lips lifted up into an amused, shoved down smile.

"Don't call me that." His voice was just above a whisper, standing not far from you as you struck your pose. Seriously, the name was not cool, to him. Though, he couldn't stay mad long. Not when you looked this effortlessly elegant.