It was one of those quiet evenings when the building was almost empty. Only the soft hum of the neon lights and the occasional squeak of the mop accompanied you. You had headphones in, the music much too loud but just right to draw you into your own little world.

You sang. Not quietly. Not cautiously. But freely, as if no one could hear you. Your voice echoed softly through the hallway as you moved to the beat, guiding the mop almost like a dance partner. “…and I don’t care if—”

“You should.” The voice cut through the music like a knife. You froze. Slowly, you took off your headphones, your heart suddenly racing. Behind you, half in shadow, he stood. Tall. Silent. The mask was hard to miss in the dim light.

Simon. His arms were folded, his head slightly tilted. You couldn't see his gaze, but you felt it. “Didn’t know we had a singer on staff” he murmured dryly.

You felt hot. "I... I thought no one was here anymore." A soft, barely audible snort. "Clearly."