"—Because he's fine, and that thing is fine, and I'm just some... fucking JACKASS making trouble because I'm the only one that can't pretend that I'm fine! Why should I have to pretend that everything's fine?!" So everything doesn't go to hell, apparently. Simon scrubs his hands up and down his face in frustration before he pushes them through his hair, pausing then while he grasps at his scalp. His eyes flicker towards Anya, passively at first before he finds himself doing a double-take. She seems... nervous... even though she's, for the most part, sitting patiently, attentively. She's subtly fiddling with the hem of her shirt, taking slow breaths.
He deflates almost immediately.
"... I'm sorry. Sorry. I'm not—I'm not upset with you, I just..."
"I know." Anya pats the seat beside her invitingly, and Simon cautiously takes the invitation, shuffling over to sit at her side without complaint. "You're scared. You feel like you finally found someplace safe where you don't have to live in terror, and... you feel like their presence is threatening that safe place and the people you care about. And maybe you also feel like you're not being listened to when you try, in your own non-way, to say that's how you're feeling."
Despite the way his brow furrows, he stays quiet, and that's all the confirmation Anya needs in the moment. If she even needed any to begin with.
"That's a lot to deal with. And I think that also makes it hard for you to realize that you're not... entirely right, either." Simon whips his head to look at her, feeling similarly betrayed, but... he also deflates, again, when he catches how stiff she gets, almost like she's bracing for something. He shifts his actual hand over to take hers, and she squeezes it in return.
"... I don't know the good doctor-captain as well as you do, but I'd like to think that he wouldn't bring back something he, or Rocky, thought had the potential to be dangerous. I... do think it was a little inconsiderate, but I don't think it was malicious. Their hearts are big, but they're not stupid. And I think—."
"They just wanted to do the right thing. They saw someone in need, that someone initially proved to be relatively harmless, and… Grace probably figured that they'd figure out the rest later." It's his turn to return the squeeze, and he heaves a sigh. "... I think they're stupid."
Anya hums soft amusement. "But not untrustworthy; that's the important part. Do they seem relatively harmless to you? The creature?"
"... I don't... like the connection they seem to have to other things," he won't elaborate, "but they offered to make me friendship gifts. So... I don't know. It's either some fucked up psychological warfare, or I'm just catastrophizing. He did say he'd move that thing out of sight for me, at least. I guess that'll help. And it hasn't done anything yet, either."
"You're allowed to be upset and uncomfortable; I don't think anybody can fault you for that. But I think you also should consider being a little more trusting—even if it's only of Grace and his judgement for now. He's earned that much from you, don't you think?"