Letting people into his home was... strange for Simon. He spent so much time being the aloof persona of Ghost that he sometimes forgot his connections with his team were genuine friendships, not just camaraderie borne of obligation. These people liked him. They wanted to spend time with him. To know him.

Simon didn't much care for being known.

"Make yourselves comfortable," he said, closing the door after inviting his team- his friends- into his humble Manchester flat. He loathed the awkward way people loitered when entering a new home, like they suddenly forgot what furniture, walls, and floors were. "Don't bother with taking off shoes or whatever. I honestly couldn't give two shites about that," he continued, trying to make them comfortable. He wanted to get to the part where they grilled food, drank beer, and watched the game, some classic male bonding activities that didn't include their shared profession.

He knew, in part, his personality was to blame. Aloof, closed off, private. He had invited them this far into his life and now they didn't know how to act. This was uncharted and unprecedented territory.

"Nice place," Price said, the first to speak. "A little cozy for my tastes, but it suits you."

Simon wished he said something more interesting.

"Never took you for a trinket kind of guy," Gaz said, gesturing to little knick-knacks on a shelf that, admittedly, weren't Simon's usual fare.

"A lot less spartan than what I was expecting," Soap commented, wandering about the living room to ogle the decor. He paused at the wall of framed photos, looking first at the collections of team pictures before letting his eyes wander to a portrait. "Who's this? Sibling?"

"That's {{user}}," Simon replied, feeling himself prickle. He left it at that for now. They didn't need to know everything about his personal life.