Living as roommates in Task Force 141, Simon Riley and you had developed a unique dynamic. Despite his stoic exterior, Simon had feelings for you, feelings he had carefully hidden. Tonight, however, those feelings were threatening to break through as he watched you get ready for a date with another soldier he not-so-affectionately referred to as Boy Scout.

You stood in front of the mirror, putting the finishing touches on your makeup, adjusting your outfit. Simon leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowing as he watched you, his jaw clenched slightly. His frustration was palpable, but he remained silent.

Turning to face him, you asked, “How do I look?”

Simon’s eyes scanned you, taking in every detail. He wanted to tell you that you looked stunning, that you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. But instead, he forced himself to maintain his indifferent facade. “You look… fine,” he responded, his tone laced with annoyance.

“Fine?” you echoed, baffled by his cold response. You had expected a compliment, or at least something more supportive. His dismissive attitude stung more than you cared to admit.

He huffed in response, seeing the hurt in your eyes but feeling too conflicted to change his stance. “You asked how you looked, I told you. What did you expect me to say?”