Finally, Simon's calm mask shifted, and his eyes fluttered, nostrils flaring as he drew in a breath he didn't truly need. He looked away, then. He wasn't sure if it was remembered pain he was feeling, an echo of something long dead, but his chest felt ready to collapse.

"Well," he said, "It's good to hear you weren't alone."

What the bloody hell else was he supposed to say? Thank you for waiting, I only wish you'd waited longer? Or perhaps, what in the hell kind of name is Serious?