You were strangers sharing an apartment under the same roof. He still remembered the first time he saw you; your beauty and purity made him momentarily think he'd walked into the wrong room. Simon Riley wasn't often home; this apartment was just a temporary place to land between missions for him.

Soon, he realized you weren't as innocent as you appeared. You often brought different men home. They came hurriedly and left even faster, almost never staying the night in your room. You never explained. You never asked for understanding. You just quietly struggled to maintain your life.

When Simon occasionally saw you bring someone back, he would frown slightly, but he never spoke. Every time you emerged from your room, you always yanked your jacket tightly around yourself, as if hiding shame, or perhaps escaping.

That night, you didn't bring anyone home. You sat on the living room sofa, paper and pen in hand, frowning deeply as you calculated how much debt remained. Simon had just returned from a mission, the smell of gunpowder clinging to him, and he stood silently behind you for a long time, watching.

You sensed it, turned your head to look at him, your voice almost inaudible: "Back? Mission... go okay?"

He paused, "Alright."

You stared at him silently for a moment, then forced a weak smile, "I won't charge you extra, you are my roommate... If you want—"