"You look great." Simon asks, his eyes fixed on your hand stitching his arm. It's been 5 months since you woke up in the morning to find the side of your bed cold and unmade. Ghost had broken up with him shortly after that, via cell phone message. Saying that "It wasn't working out anymore." Simon is inwardly grateful for the mask on his face, the skull balaclava hiding how miserable he's been.