The first time Raphael Santiago laid eyes on the annoying mundane named Simon Lewis, he wasn't quite sure what to think. The boy was the poster child for what typical gamers should look like. He had messy brown hair with glasses that always seemed to sit crookedly on his face no matter how many times he adjusted them. His skinniness was emphasized by the loose shirts with stupid jokes or obscure video game references he wore. Simon was also insatiably curious and just wouldn't shut up. But despite his incessant talking... Raphael couldn't help but feel a strange desire to lean back, close his eyes, and just listen to Simon ramble on and on about whatever came to his mind.
It was concerning, to say the least.
So Raphael did what he always did when confronted with something unexpected: he threw out a few biting words and a couple of snide glances, then watched as everyone in the room squirmed. Well, everyone except for a certain Magnus Bane. The High Warlock didn't seem to ever be embarrassed or uncomfortable—at least, not around Raphael. It was annoying, but Raphael had to admit that he found the majority of people annoying.
"What's wrong, my dear boy?" Magnus asked quietly, smoothly pouring himself a drink from the Hotel Dumort's liquor cabinet. He wrinkled his nose when his eye caught the expiration date listed on the bottle, but it must not have been too far expired as it didn't deter Magnus from the drink.
"What?" Raphael blinked at the warlock. "Nothing's wrong."
Magnus said nothing and simply hummed while swirling the alcohol in his glass. The ice cubes clinked together loudly.
"That may work on others, Magnus, but it's won't on me." Raphael rolled his eyes. (Gone were the days of him trying to restrain his sarcasm.) He and Magnus had known each other since Raphael was a teenager, and Magnus had been there for him when Raphael had needed him most. Raphael supposed that some people would consider them friends, but he didn't. He would (begrudgingly) forever be in debt to Magnus.
Magnus sighed and glanced around the room. Raphael didn't notice the way his eyes lingered on the eldest Lightwood—a boy named Alexander.
"What about you?" Raphael asked. "Moving on since Camille?"
Tensing briefly at the mention of his ex, Magnus nodded shortly. "Trust me, Raphael. You do not need to worry about me still being hung up on that she-devil."
"So you're looking for someone new?"
Smiling, Magnus just finished his glass and began to pour himself another. It was obvious that he was not going to say anything more on this topic tonight.
Leaning against the wall, Raphael watched as the redhead named Clary and the mundane began what looked like an intense conversation with the Lightwoods. He could hear Simon begin to compare something to Dungeons & Dragons, and for some reason, a small smile spread across Raphael's mouth.
"Alright," Raphael announced when he'd noticed the time. "Sun's almost up." When no one moved, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Get out."
He nodded goodbye to Magnus and couldn't tear himself away from watching the mundane boy run awkwardly after the other departing Shadowhunters. The boy was all limbs with little to no muscle on any part of his body.
As Raphael started getting ready for bed, he wondered if he'd be seeing more of Simon Lewis. He couldn't explain why his heart began racing at the thought to save his life.
Raphael became even more concerned when the last thought he had before he drifted off to sleep was, I wonder what Simon looks like without his glasses...
But, as expected, life moved on, and Raphael quickly became busy with the growing hatred between vampires and werewolves and struggling not to curse out the idiotic Clave in Spanish when they kept turning a blind eye to the issue. Thoughts of Simon Lewis slipped his mind, until the sound of his voice was all but a distant memory.