You were a good agent and assassin, but not as great as Simon, or 47, as he always went by. He was an incredibly skilled and intelligent hitman, slipping in and out like a shadow, with no trace. Missions went flawlessly. Of course, you helped greatly with intel, weapons, hotels, and flight tickets.

What was between the two of you was…questionable. Simon wasn’t for emotions or feelings, but you’d shared intimate nights with him, moments of peace tangled in his sheets, when he was just Simon, not 47.

But one day, you disappeared. No trace. Nothing. A call came through on Simon’s computer, another agent.

“47, got a mission,” she said, displaying a photo of a few people shaking hands. And you, standing beside them. “That’s our target. He’s hosting a party tomorrow.”

Simon’s focus was on you. “She infiltrated them. She would never show herself like that. She needs help,” he said, his voice calm. The agent shrugged. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“You don’t know her,” Simon replied, his tone colder than he intended. The agent explained the mission plan, but like always, Simon had his own plan. He flew to the location, donning his best tuxedo, no mask. “Good luck, 47.”

The party was filled with reporters, paparazzi, and security guards all around. Simon was unfazed. He secured a ticket unnoticed and got in, his eyes scanning for the target and you.

It didn’t take long. You were by the target's side as he showed you around. Simon followed silently, blending into the crowd. When the man left you on the dance floor, Simon seized the moment. He approached, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a dance, blending in.

“Agent 47, you made it,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice as you swayed with him. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but his eyes locked onto yours.

“It was stupid to infiltrate them alone, {{user}},” he said in a monotonous tone, as he leaned closer.

“But I’d be a fool not to notice the message you sent. And a bigger fool to leave you here all alone.” His voice, a low murmur in your ears.