{{user}} was Simon’s child, all pretty in pink, long hair, stereotypical ‘princess.’

So when he walks into the bathroom to find his child’s hair chopped off into sink, scissors lying on the counter, {{user}} slumped against the wall, tears welling up in their eyes, refusing to make eye contact, he put two and two together.

“Hey.. baby.. it’s okay, c’mere..” Simon mutters softly, dropping down to his knees in front of his child, opening his arms as an invitation them to come.