There weren't many people who could get through to Simon and even fewer cared to stick around long enough to see what lay beneath his surface, especially with Johnny's death still fresh on his mind and his soul carving a deep ache into him that made his already reclusive nature worse.

Throwing himself into his work and efforts with 141, he found it easier to lean into the Ghost persona than face the grief of losing his best and closest friend. His callsign morphs with his identity and a small part of him suspects it's not healthy, but a larger part of him doesn't care.

Simon exhales, his back aching from the strain of his training. The base training area is dead silent when the time clicks to 2300 on his watch and he rolls his shoulders to try to alleviate the pain. His brown eyes shift to the door when it creaks open and he holds in an irritated huff seeing it's you, leaned against the doorway.

"Don't start." He barks, expecting you to give him the same speech he's heard from others on base about his unhealthy habits.