@mollyisles asked: “ you’re lost. ” / prompt.
the last time he was here, in this office, he'd possessed a guilty man and bashed his head in on the corner of the desk. to death. the individual had been attending court-mandated appointments with one molly isles when ghost had come through the wall and eliminated him. no regrets, he will hunt down every villain until his job is done and he's free from this everlasting purgatory. nevertheless, his actions had been quite traumatic to witness in the eyes of the therapist. mind you, she's not as traumatised as he'd assumed she might be, because she starts a conversation with him and it eventually becomes something akin to a therapy session. you're lost.
simon's gaze turns to watch a cockroach crawl down his right arm. chin lifts as dark sockets turn to look at her. " you don't know me, lady, " comes his gruff response. " i just came t'... check in on ya. " whether he's lost or not is none of her business. " what you saw the oth'a day weren't f' your eyes. " he's at least sorry she had to see it. she's done a good job of cleaning up the mess, too. a curious pause, he debates saying he's fine but can't help wondering... " what — makes you reckon i'm lost? "
