Being with Simon was like a blessing from the universe, if you believed in that sort of thing. He was perfect in your eyes, a saint. You overlooked the blood on his hands, the sins he had committed. You were his angel.

He had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and was forced to improvise, though, but you were oblivious. You still loved him.

"This reminded me of 'ya," he spoke as he held up a crystal in the moonlight through the window, the trinket faintly glowing.