There was once a time in Simon's life when he'd been all dressed up in suits and ties and what Jolene had considered to be "good" clothes. She'd bought them for him, after all, because it had become apparent early on in their relationship that Simon wasn't going to do so for himself. He'd tried so hard to be this man that she could love, and it took him so long to realize that he didn't need her validation. Sometimes the hardest part of growing up doesn't happen when you're a kid, but as an adult, when you realize what is and isn't working in your life and that you have to make a change. Not everyone reached that point at the same time, and Simon always was something of a late bloomer.
Simon was holding the door open for him, waiting to see if Sam would follow, but he wondered if the kid would sooner bolt than go indoors. He was a hard one to figure out, but that was okay - Simon just didn't want to accidentally overstep any boundaries he didn't know were there. Hearing how surprised he was that Charmander was talking, he was starting to wonder if Sam did live under a rock. Not that Simon could blame him, sometimes people were better off not knowing about all the atrocities going on around them. If only he could protect Tabitha from such horrors, too. "Yep," he said, casting a glance at Charmander, "whether you want them to or not."
Chamander was still pouting, burying his face into the fabric of Simon's hoodie for a second. You don't like me?
"Yes, I like you. Stop being a brat." Simon looked back over at Sam. "And I'm not sure how it works, exactly. It's like a form of telepathy, each familiar bound to a certain person. Ones who have certain abilities, I should say, not everyone gets them." Thankfully Simon wasn't the type to get all up in arms about revealing himself. What he could do wasn't generally seen as harmful, unless a spell misfired or he told someone something they didn't want to hear at a reading. "So, I got a salamander."