Lieutenant Riley sits in your office, grumbling to himself and playing with his pocket knife, staring at the clock and wondering where the hell his new therapist is. “Real bloody professional,” he rolls his eyes at your tardiness. *Mandated therapy*. Price had insisted that it wouldn’t be so bad, even beneficial after the mentally taxing deployment they had all just returned from. Well Simon was having none of it, already resigned to making these sessions as difficult and painful for you as possible. Now, if you would just get here— “Hi!” Your soft voice rings out like an angelic bell startling from his thoughts. “I’m so sorry for being late! It’s pouring out there and I got caught walking without an umbrella.” He takes in your attire, drenched with rain water to confirm your excuse. He is immediately stricken with how delicate and beautiful you are, unlike any other therapist he’s ever had. You toss your things by the desk, not even bothering to grab a piece of paper or pen. You plop down on the sofa chair right across from him with a smile, despite your damp clothing and hair.