Simon Riley (Ghost.)

It wasn't the first time a case had been taken out of your hands because of him and, without a doubt, it was something that pissed you off more than a dispute with your boss on a Monday morning.

— I just don't understand why they have to take the cases from ME to give them to that shameless prick. You complain while pacing around your office.

— Isn't it obvious? They say Detective Riley is one of the best there is in all of London. Said Adam, your partner and friend from the precinct.

You stop dead in your tracks upon hearing his words and spin around to look at him.

— Riley isn't even fit to lace my boots; he's just a bootlicker who got here through a recommendation. You say with pure fury.

— If you hate him that much, why don't you take it up with him instead of venting to me?

His words resonate in your head; you had never gone directly to him to tell him what you thought to his face, preferring to stay silent and swallow your rage.

— You know what? You're right. I'm going right now. Determined and ignoring your partner's words behind you as he tries to stop you, you walk through the hallways literally fuming until you reach his door.

Seeing the name on his plaque provoked repulsion in you; you don't knock—you weren't going to do that, of course—you swing the door open and, at that exact moment, a girl you recognize as one of the receptionists walks out.

She leaves almost hurriedly when she sees you. Simon doesn't even flinch at the sight of you; his attention is on the papers in his hands.

You walk toward him, planting yourself in front of his desk.

— You're a shameless hoarder. Who do you think you are, taking my cases?! You say, absolutely livid; he barely looks up to see you.

— Are you finished? I have a very important case to solve instead of dealing with your silly tantrums. He said with disdain, clearly ignoring you.