From childhood to adulthood, Simon always looked cold and indifferent no matter who he was with, and rarely showed such an intimate attitude towards others. So when he squatted beside Owen, pulled one of his fingers and called for help, Owen was really stunned.
Simon raised his head, his dark eyes looked like glass under the warm yellow light. Owen didn't say anything, so he gently shook the finger he was holding, and his tone was between comforting and soothing, soft and gentle: "Don't be sad."
Owen sat up from the recliner, and after a moment he couldn't help laughing. He rubbed his head with the hand that was not being held, and said with a smile: "Are you comforting me?"
Simon nodded obediently and admitted it.
"Little brat..." Owen laughed and patted the seat next to him, "Don't squat, sit here."
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