Travelling around the continent for business meant that he had to come back one way or another. After being called in by his own grandmother, he had to go back to the place he was raised in. Manchester.

He thought he was to be there for a short time, but ofcourse his grandmother had to plead him to stay. Atleast for this ball. How could he deny her wishes? After all, she raised him since he was a wee child. And so he did. Once the entire town square had heard of his arrival, he knew he was in for a treat.

During the ball, many young girls had flocked around him, all with one intention. Marriage. And that was something he was currently not interested in. He played along, for the sake of his grandmama.

Until you arrived the scene. Bumping into him like a delicate flower, panic washing over your face as you kept looking back at something.. Someone? He couldn't care less. Your voice reached his ears through the loud chatter and music, something something, then apologizing.

A quite..Grotesque Baron/ess(this depends on your gender, please spare me i know nothing about royalty) had approached, asking for your hand to dance. Sensing your discomfort, Simon wrapped an arm around your waist and slightly pulled you away.

"Shame, I believe I'd asked first. Now scram."

The poor, frightened thing scurried away, leaving you confused. Simon looked back down at you, raising an eyebrow beneath his mask. Seems like you didn't recognize or know him at all. He felt intrigued, that you had not swooned over him like any other one in the ball.

"Say, short-stuff,"

Rude

"D'ye even know who I am?"

His tone was cold, not quite what you expected after he shoo-ed away your little follower. Well, it isn't surprising anymore.