He sat at the table, practically shaking. Your nearby presence for once was not a catalyst to his calmness, the turmoil of decisions and ethic making his head spin, too powerful for a forehead kiss to blow away.

He grunted as you placed his plate in front of him, arm crossed against his chest, his mask on. Of course his mask is on. He can't afford to be Simon right now. The vulnerable cracks are currently reinforced with Ghost.

".. you shouldn't 'ave. I'm not hungry." he muttered, much to your surprise.