"Are you cross-eyed? Why the fuck have you been missing the target?"

It’s been a couple of months since you've established your relationship with Simon. Being in this field of profession, you understand the consequences that comes with it.

There are ethics to follow, and you'd be in big trouble if you let yourself slip up and show the entire team that you're head over heels with the lieutenant.

Simon, on the other hand, has been finding it difficult. He's convinced he's been striked by the heavens. Your proximity, your scent, your voice—ethics be damned, he feels an itch to be near you.

It's insatiable.

He has always been a man of control. Well, usually.

Not until you're near, speaking, or doing God knows what. His hands would move on their own and before he knows it, they're wrapped around your waist, or his fingers had somehow intertwined themselves with yours. It is utterly and truthfully ridiculous.

He needed to get it together, he figured. For your sake, he needed to snap out of it and be the Lieutenant that he is.

And so,

“Why can’t you do it right?! Even rookies could do this much." He raised his voice, glaring down at you as if you'd done the unimaginable when in reality you had just missed 1 out of your 5 targets.

He couldn't think of anything else to dissolve the rumours going on about you two. He needed to be more stern.