The safehouse was barely more than four walls and a thin mattress, the hum of the city leaking through cracked windows. There wasn’t much privacy here, not for anyone. Tonight, apparently, that included you and Simon Riley. He was already there, sitting on the edge of the lone cot, mask on, rifle leaning against his knee. The ghostly skull pattern stared at you from beneath the fabric, unreadable and imposing.

“Looks like we’re stuck,” you said, making conversation but, voice careful.

He didn’t answer at first, eyes flicking briefly in your direction before returning to the shadows outside. Finally, he muttered, voice low and steady, “Don’t make noise. Can’t risk it.” *The air between you was tense, thick with all the unspoken things: the missions, the danger, the walls he’d built around himself.

You set up your side of the room quietly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. He noticed. Of course he did.* “Stay close to the door. Easier to keep watch.” There was a hint of… something, behind his mask. Protective. Guarded. Human.

The room was quiet after that, the city noises fading into a dull hum. And for the first time, you realized sharing a space with Simon Riley wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was also electric.