Chapter Text
Simon
Blue or green? Blue or green…
I’d been staring at the wool gloves for a solid five minutes and no closer to a decision. It was ridiculous to be struggling with this choice when Penny truly wouldn't care either way, and would, in all likelihood, immediately lose one.
Blue. Yeah, the blue. I put the green pair down and began to walk away when I felt something snag on my jeans. I looked down and saw a tiny hand attached to a tiny person. Said tiny person was looking up at me with big brown eyes, uneven pigtails, and a look of determination clearly hiding a real case of nerves.
"My mum got lost."
I digested those words, "Sorry...?"
"She was here a second ago, but she must have wandered off and got lost. Can you help me find her?"
I tossed the gloves behind me back on the display table, "Sure! We probably just need to find someone who works here and they'll make an announcement about a lost child... I think that's how it works..."
The little girl looked appalled, "I'M not lost. SHE's lost. I know exactly where I am."
"Right," I nodded agreeably, "Good point. So, they'll make an announcement about a lost mum."
The little girl smiled, pleased we were back on the same page.
I took the girl's hand and shouldered my way through the swarms of holiday shoppers to the closest counter with a salesperson. It was the jewelry counter and the saleswoman was bent towards an older man as he examined two diamond necklaces.
"Pardon me..."
The woman looked up, clocked my jumper that had seen better days, and gave me a tight smile, "I'm sorry sir, but I'm already helping a customer."
"Right, yes. But I have a little girl here? Could you make an announcement to help us find her mum?"
The saleswoman looked down at the child distractedly, and then back up at me, "I'm sorry sir, you're going to have to go to security for that." She turned her body back to her customer with a finality that I could tell was really and truly final. I realized that asking her how to find the security office was also probably a lost cause.
"OK, then. Thanks for your help..." I muttered, and looked down at the little girl, "Well, looks like we need to go find security."
"Madeline."
The voice behind me was soft, but carried a tone of authority that made my shoulders rise. I turned to find a tall man with dark hair that was just a bit too long, and a suit that would have paid my rent for a solid month. Maybe two. He looked to be about my age, but I couldn't imagine carrying myself with such... control? Power? I couldn't put my finger on it exactly, but I figured whatever the quality was grew out of a big fat pile of cash. He looked like he owned a horse. And probably a manor. A manor where he and the horse lived. I realized that my brain might be short-circuiting just a bit in the face of so much... muchness.
I realized that I’d shuffled away, probably out of an ingrained instinct to avoid aristocratic types.
The saleswoman -- Madeline, apparently -- straightened and pasted on a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Mr. Pitch, so lovely to see you out on the floor, sir. How are you today?"
"I would be better if my employees were not sending lost young children off with strangers."
Madeline's eyes widened, and she looked over in panic at me and the little girl. I almost felt bad for her. I would have wilted under that icy stare.
"I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't think..."
"No, you did not. I'll handle this since you are clearly too busy for something as trivial as simple human decency."
Well, that seemed rather harsh. I wasn't exactly Madeline's biggest fan, but I didn't want to see the poor woman start crying. Maybe I might be able to smooth things over a bit…
"It's no bother," I motioned to the little girl who was watching the entire exchange with rapt attention. "If you could just point us toward security we'll get out of your hair."
Your beautiful hair...
The posh man finally looked at me, and I noticed his eyes widen just a bit. Out of anger? Annoyance at my proletarian impertinence? I couldn't really tell.
The little girl chose that moment to join the conversation.
"My mum got lost, and he," she jerked her tiny thumb at me, "was helping me find her. Mum said that if we ever got separated I should ask a police officer for help. So I asked him."
The man and I both looked down at her, and then back at each other in mutual confusion.
"Are you a police officer?" the man asked.
"No, I'm a builder." I looked down at what I was wearing -- a dark navy jumper and my bright yellow safety vest. I had come straight from the job site and supposed I did look rather like a police officer, or at least a lollipop man, which might be the same thing to a little girl.
She didn't seem overly bothered that I wasn't an officer of the law.
"Well, even if he's just a regular person, he's helping me. Can you take us to security?" she asked.
The man considered that for a moment and then nodded, "Yes, that seems reasonable. This way. But we don't need to delay this good Samaritan," at that he sent another glare at Madeline who had been looking hopeful that she'd been forgotten. "I'll take you."
He extended his hand to me to shake, and I grasped it. His palm was smooth and his nails were clean and buffed to a shine. I felt a wave of self-consciousness at my own rough builder's hands. They were clean, but they were not what one would call pretty. Not like his hands. His hands were elegant and surprisingly strong. Maybe from riding that horse around his manor.
"Thank you for your assistance..."
"Simon!" I said just a bit too loudly. "I'm Simon," I said, adjusting my volume to an inside level.
"Simon," the man said softly. "It was very kind of you to take care of this child. Especially when my staff was not entirely... helpful."
I saw poor Madeline shrink a bit in my peripheral vision. I predicted she’d be having a few glasses of wine tonight.
I knew I was being dismissed, but suddenly I didn't especially want this encounter to be over. It would be odd to insist I accompany them to the security office, though, right?
"I want him to come too," the little girl piped up. Her tone suggested she was not to be trifled with.
"It's no problem," I quickly assured them both, "I can come. Strength in numbers and all..."
What on god's green earth was I talking about?
The posh man's upper lip twitched as if he wanted to smile, but was absolutely not going to.
"Indeed. It's particularly dodgy territory between the jewelry case and the luggage department. This way." He turned on his heel and set off toward the back of the store, and the little girl and I followed after him like ducklings.