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@monstersandbeasts
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Hannibal’s mind was like a sponge, picking up on every little thing that his patient spoke about. He was intrigued by the fact that Daemon didn’t let Scott in on his shenanigangs. It was probably for the better and allowed Scott a few moments of clarity and sanity. He watched with growing fascination as they seemed to listen to something in the distance and then let Daemon take over, easily identified by the way he laughed.
There was commotion outside the room and after frowning at his patient, Hannibal decided to find out what was going on. It took him barely 20 seconds.
“It will amuse you to hear that your rapist has decided to end his own life. An interesting choice to say the least.” He gave Daemon a little smile while he tried to figure out how he could have known. Hannibal was in the end a scientist and didn’t believe in anything supernatural at all.
“And yes, you are very right. Scott, Wolf and you do react very differently to different stimuli. Wolf gets scared, Scott tries to keep his cool and you.... you crave them. Any stimulus, really. Anything anybody throws at you, you crave. Boredom id your greatest enemy. Ah...”
He turned away from the camera.
“If only I could take you home with me, Daemon. I could bring you to your limits.”
Adopting an innocent expression Daemon blinked slowly, unable to stop a wide smirk from spreading across his face. “Oh no, did he?” He snorted, dropping the façade as he let himself sink back to lean his back against the backrest of his gurney/bed, waving a hand while toying with a lock of his hair. “It was obvious he was in the closet, but apparently he had a foot in Narnia if he couldn’t wait until he left the building to freak out. I thought he’d have a few more days to stew and fester before cracking. This outcome is so much more fun!” He started laughing, covering his mouth to mute the giggles as he nodded along to Hannibal doing his ‘I’m an intelligent human physiologist; I’m going to figure you out.’ monologue.
‘That’s one way to put it.’ Wolf sighed.
Daemon snorted. This human was really trying his damndest to fit them into a human-sized box, wasn’t he?
‘I wish him all the luck.’ Wolf tucked himself in the back of their mind, promptly going to sleep. With only Scott watching on, Daemon lost what little moderation on his temperament Wolf unconsciously had on him, sadomasochistic tendencies released in full.
Giggle growing into a wide wicked smile, Daemon lifted his still restrained wrist and shook it. “Buy me a drink first, I’m an expensive date!” he teased, sticking his tongue out playfully. “But I’m worth it, promise.”
Setting what little was left of the sandwich aside – one corner and the crusts – Daemon grabbed the handcuff with his free hand easily bending the metal as he worked to free himself.
"I used to be worth so much." He mused, slipping into Hannibal's native tongue as the handcuff clicked, metal bending. "Men would sell their soul just for a single night with me."
Hannibal was very good at compartmentalizing. He had to be, considering his job and his very special hobby. But he was in the end a scientist who explored the world mainly through his mind and reason. What he saw Daemon do now however didn't fit into that at all.
He took a step back, automatically placing himself between his patient and the door.
"The camera is watching." was all he could answer for a moment. He was too surprised, too shocked. Scared? Maybe a little. And it was exciting.
And then something interesting happened. His mind twisted like it had done so often in his life before and it accepted what it saw as fact and something totally normal. You know, like eating people.
He pulled his wallet out and took his business card out, carefully hiding it from the camera.
"Hit me and run. Here's my address. Come see me."
Yanking the handcuff off Daemon stretched with a groan, turning to dangle his legs off the gurney while eyeing the chunk of metal still in hand.
"The camera? That stupid thing was hacked hours ago. A few friends came to visit. I should catch a ride with him..."
Jun 10, 2017 - This Pin was discovered by Daniela Majorie Akama dos Reis. Discover (and save!) your own Pins on Pinterest
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Hannibal’s mind was like a sponge, picking up on every little thing that his patient spoke about. He was intrigued by the fact that Daemon didn’t let Scott in on his shenanigangs. It was probably for the better and allowed Scott a few moments of clarity and sanity. He watched with growing fascination as they seemed to listen to something in the distance and then let Daemon take over, easily identified by the way he laughed.
There was commotion outside the room and after frowning at his patient, Hannibal decided to find out what was going on. It took him barely 20 seconds.
“It will amuse you to hear that your rapist has decided to end his own life. An interesting choice to say the least.” He gave Daemon a little smile while he tried to figure out how he could have known. Hannibal was in the end a scientist and didn’t believe in anything supernatural at all.
“And yes, you are very right. Scott, Wolf and you do react very differently to different stimuli. Wolf gets scared, Scott tries to keep his cool and you.... you crave them. Any stimulus, really. Anything anybody throws at you, you crave. Boredom id your greatest enemy. Ah...”
He turned away from the camera.
“If only I could take you home with me, Daemon. I could bring you to your limits.”
Adopting an innocent expression Daemon blinked slowly, unable to stop a wide smirk from spreading across his face. “Oh no, did he?” He snorted, dropping the façade as he let himself sink back to lean his back against the backrest of his gurney/bed, waving a hand while toying with a lock of his hair. “It was obvious he was in the closet, but apparently he had a foot in Narnia if he couldn’t wait until he left the building to freak out. I thought he’d have a few more days to stew and fester before cracking. This outcome is so much more fun!” He started laughing, covering his mouth to mute the giggles as he nodded along to Hannibal doing his ‘I’m an intelligent human physiologist; I’m going to figure you out.’ monologue.
‘That’s one way to put it.’ Wolf sighed.
Daemon snorted. This human was really trying his damndest to fit them into a human-sized box, wasn’t he?
‘I wish him all the luck.’ Wolf tucked himself in the back of their mind, promptly going to sleep. With only Scott watching on, Daemon lost what little moderation on his temperament Wolf unconsciously had on him, sadomasochistic tendencies released in full.
Giggle growing into a wide wicked smile, Daemon lifted his still restrained wrist and shook it. “Buy me a drink first, I’m an expensive date!” he teased, sticking his tongue out playfully. “But I’m worth it, promise.”
Setting what little was left of the sandwich aside – one corner and the crusts – Daemon grabbed the handcuff with his free hand easily bending the metal as he worked to free himself.
"I used to be worth so much." He mused, slipping into Hannibal's native tongue as the handcuff clicked, metal bending. "Men would sell their soul just for a single night with me."
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Hannibal shook his head when the sandwich was offered to him. Oh no, he wouldn’t. Not after Scott had taken a few bites.
“Please. Consider it a gift. Hospital food is awful at best. You have a lot of healing to do. You need to eat well.”
Also, Scott had a few misconceptions that Hannibal would gladly help him with. “You are not crazy. Your mind did something extraordinary many years ago. It protected you. More than once.”
Hannibal didn’t know enough about that man now. But he knew from experience that Scott himself was most likely just another alter.
“Daemon... he is simply the part of you who learnt to enjoy abuse. And the other one, that very sweet one, Wolf, I believe, he most likely started out to please someone, right? A perfect, malleable... playmate.”
Hannibal knew about Jack so far but not Rose. And not Kyrian. She didn’t know that the abuser he knew didn’t birth neither Daemon, nor Wolf.
“So you see... they have a purpose. And crazy doesn’t. So no, I don’t want to make you crazier. I simply want you to be who you are, who all of you are, but in a sage environment, in capable hands and...” He smiled at his patient. “Daemon and I share a little secret alright.”
Because Hannibal had shown him. Had shown the depths of his own inhumanity, had granted him a glimpse behind the person suit he wore to please the public. Daemon knew that Hannibal was a monster and capable of pretty much everything his twisted mind whispered to him.
[Trigger warning; suicide]
Scott pulled the plate back towards himself, smiling ruefully. “Thank you, that’s a … kind way of putting it. But if you’ve had any meaningful interactions with Daemon, you know just what he is. I’ve never met him and I know that much.”
Scott as the persona closest to their original knew much about what happened when the others took control, but only when the others let him.
And Daemon was keeping his cards close.
Before Scott could continue that thread of thought an event close by caught his attention; inhuman senses catching the scene behind locked doors.
Tucking back into the sandwich Scott blinked rapidly, calm brown eyes flashing to gold briefly before darkening.
Everyone was awake. And aware; watching on curiously. Gleefully.
Oh my. Why did he do that? He still had a few days left in him.
Daemon cackled gleefully. That was awesome!
Still chewing, he glanced up towards the camera blankly before he turned to stare at the wall his bed was situated next to, giggling softly.
“Well. We weren’t expecting that.” he murmured, giving his human doctor a mad little grin.
His victim/rapist had made another rash decision, ruining his life.
Or, to put it accurately, ending it.
-
His name was Henrik Jones.
And he wasn’t gay.
Curled up in a ball in a corner of the medicine room – the only room with a lock on the outside – Henrik was a wreck, trying to understand how he’d gotten to where he was now.
Because yeah, sure.
He’d noticed the crazy patient was flirty. But he was flirty with all the male staff, Henrik wasn’t special.
He’d noticed that the patient was – when you caught him at the right time – kind of sweet.
And cute. For a guy.
Shaking his head furiously Henrik got back onto his feet, digging through the cabinet closest to him, downing whatever pills he could get his hands on.
But he wasn’t gay! He’d never thought of putting a hand on the guy.
It was – just today he -
He couldn’t help himself.
He didn’t know what happened! One second he had been staring at gold-looking eyes –
Next -
Next Doctor Lecter was tossing him into the hands of the security detail situated around the building.
But he wasn’t gay! He … he …
He couldn’t take it anymore.
Henrik refused to face his own actions.
The pills weren’t working fast enough.
Pulling his shirt off, Henrik reached for the medical supplies.
The officers walking in not ten minutes later walked into a crime scene drenched in blood.
-
Sensing the last of the man’s life ebb away Daemon grinned elated.
“It’s fascinating; how different people react to certain … stimuli.” He commented, taking control as the malicious glee he felt overrode everything else.
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Cut out his heart. Well, obviously that was metaphorical. Someone Scott had loved obviously. A betrayal. Domestic violence? A woman. Interesting. Sex as a way to calm him down, ground and center him. No. Not sex. Pleasure. And what Hannibal knew so far was that for Daemon pain meant pleasure. Great. He could work with that.
"The police is out there, looking for the man who held you captive. I like that you speak of him as both lover and captor. Tells me you're not quite as far gone as I feared."
He smiled at him briefly.
"Finish your food, Scott. It was meant to be my lunch so honor that, please." He just couldn't see any of the good meat go to waste. "If you consent, I will twist your mind a little more. Until you can act on your masochism safely and the other men in your head feel... at peace. How does that sound?"
A look passed over the doctor’s face; not really an expression, more like his frown deepened. Scott couldn’t help but try to hide a giggle with another bite of the sandwich.
If only he knew that wasn’t hyperbolic. But he wasn’t crazy enough to outright tell this human that he literally had two hearts.
Well, one and a half. Three quarters.
They’d never find Jack. Not unless the immortal wanted to be found. Should he tell them? Jack was probably long off-world by now. But how could he explain that without sounding crazy? -Er?
Unless he was planning on breaking in again. The thought had a shiver running down his spine. He was still too weak to try and stop the insane immortal.
“Oh no, this was yours? Do you want the rest? I promise I’ll eat what they give me!”
He put the sandwich back on the plate and pushed it towards the doctor as he gave his proposal.
“…It kinda sounds like you want to make me crazier?" He cocked his head to the side, idly shoving a lock of his hair into his mouth. “I’m not sure if that’s possible, but good luck with Daemon, I guess.”
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Hannibal nodded.
"Alright. Not the hair. I won't touch it. I promise."
He watched him for a moment, glad he finally got him to eat.
"You shouldn't be in pain at all. Are there any preexisting conditions I need to know about? I'm more than a psychiatrist, you know. I'm also a medical doctor."
Once Scott had anwered the question Hannibal continued. "So you know where your are and why? Do you remember my name?"
Scott clucked his tongue once, putting the food and drink down, to press his fingertips to the top most part of his scar as he stared ahead blankly.
"This always hurts." He admitted softly. "And because it hurts it makes my head hurt." He turned back to the doctor with a bright smile.
"Oh? I think remember everything!" He paused, lifting both hands, pointer fingers raised. "Well. At least 90 percent. You're my psychiatrist, Doctor Lecter right?" He frowned a bit, sipping on the water. "Now that I can somewhat think straight I'm kinda worried." He admitted, pulling a pickle out of the sandwich and eating it.
Hannibal nodded. "I've seen this scar but it has been difficult in the past to touch your body. It's a surgery scar, yes? Does it hurt, or the issue underneath? I can probably help you with that, especially if it improves your mental state."
Picky eater that one bit at least he was eating. Hannibal didn't like having to order force feeding. The unnecessary adrenaline spoiled the meat.
"And yes, I'm your psychiatrist. You were brought on by the police. Scott... What are you worried about and what is the last thing you remember?"
Scott knew about Daemon. OK. But did he know about Wolf? Hannibal didn't want to risk confusing him.
Scott laughed weakly. "Does it look like a surgical scar? I guess it's healed well then..." he idly drug a finger down the scar, starting at the top of his sternum, and down to just above his belly button.
His attention seemed to trail off into the empty air for a long moment before he blinked back into focus.
"I am unclear as to any damage inside my chest but seeing as I've only had minor aches and pains these years after I was attacked I can at least believe that there isn't anything ticking away like a bomb in my chest."
He took a bite of the sandwich, covering his mouth as he chewed. "I doubt there is much that could help me mentally, at this point. Those two have done their due diligence to my subconscious." He finished chewing and ran a hand through his hair as he thought. "I'd say I remember everything. You might need to give me a push in the right direction, but I usually can remember everything, if given time to ... recall what you're asking about."
"Ah... So it's not a surgical scar. You were attacked, maybe stabbed at some point in the past? Well, I'm glad you pulled through."
He listened to what else Scott had to say. Ah, so he did know about Daemon and Wolf.
"Alright. Let's see if I understand the three of you correctly. You might have been diagnosed with DID in the past. People who experience terrible things whether they remember them or not will sometimes split a part of them off their mind to cope. Usually that part is well equipped to deal with the trauma. For example, somebody who got terribly hurt would create a personality who likes pain. That sort of thing."
Hannibal did not for a moment believe that Scott was the core, the original in this system. No. He was most likely a personality created to deal with the world.
"And if you remember everything, Scott, please tell me why I found an orderly having intercourse with your body barely two hours ago."
"Thank you..." Scott nodded slowly. "She cut out my heart." He mumbled softly, taking another bite of the sandwich just to keep his hands busy. At the doctor's description of his current ailments he nodded again.
At the demand for an explanation, he put the food back down, chewing slowly as he thought.
"You do know your field well, Dr Lecter." He admitted softly. "Sex had become a currency for my past ... lovers? Captors? Owners. And when a large portion of your subconscious thrives on sadomasochistic relationships?" He shook his head slowly, fiddling with his hair. "He's everything you think he is. And probably worse than that." He paused for a long moment, attention drifting off to the side.
"I know well and good that I am ill. Highly unstable actually. But sex, even if I initially didn't want it, has become a comfort, to all of us."
"As for my latest victim... he was just weak willed. Now our actions don't condone his decisions ... but. Given enough time, one of them would have cracked. Will crack."
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Hannibal nodded.
"Alright. Not the hair. I won't touch it. I promise."
He watched him for a moment, glad he finally got him to eat.
"You shouldn't be in pain at all. Are there any preexisting conditions I need to know about? I'm more than a psychiatrist, you know. I'm also a medical doctor."
Once Scott had anwered the question Hannibal continued. "So you know where your are and why? Do you remember my name?"
Scott clucked his tongue once, putting the food and drink down, to press his fingertips to the top most part of his scar as he stared ahead blankly.
"This always hurts." He admitted softly. "And because it hurts it makes my head hurt." He turned back to the doctor with a bright smile.
"Oh? I think remember everything!" He paused, lifting both hands, pointer fingers raised. "Well. At least 90 percent. You're my psychiatrist, Doctor Lecter right?" He frowned a bit, sipping on the water. "Now that I can somewhat think straight I'm kinda worried." He admitted, pulling a pickle out of the sandwich and eating it.
Hannibal nodded. "I've seen this scar but it has been difficult in the past to touch your body. It's a surgery scar, yes? Does it hurt, or the issue underneath? I can probably help you with that, especially if it improves your mental state."
Picky eater that one bit at least he was eating. Hannibal didn't like having to order force feeding. The unnecessary adrenaline spoiled the meat.
"And yes, I'm your psychiatrist. You were brought on by the police. Scott... What are you worried about and what is the last thing you remember?"
Scott knew about Daemon. OK. But did he know about Wolf? Hannibal didn't want to risk confusing him.
Scott laughed weakly. "Does it look like a surgical scar? I guess it's healed well then..." he idly drug a finger down the scar, starting at the top of his sternum, and down to just above his belly button.
His attention seemed to trail off into the empty air for a long moment before he blinked back into focus.
"I am unclear as to any damage inside my chest but seeing as I've only had minor aches and pains these years after I was attacked I can at least believe that there isn't anything ticking away like a bomb in my chest."
He took a bite of the sandwich, covering his mouth as he chewed. "I doubt there is much that could help me mentally, at this point. Those two have done their due diligence to my subconscious." He finished chewing and ran a hand through his hair as he thought. "I'd say I remember everything. You might need to give me a push in the right direction, but I usually can remember everything, if given time to ... recall what you're asking about."
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Hannibal nodded.
"Alright. Not the hair. I won't touch it. I promise."
He watched him for a moment, glad he finally got him to eat.
"You shouldn't be in pain at all. Are there any preexisting conditions I need to know about? I'm more than a psychiatrist, you know. I'm also a medical doctor."
Once Scott had anwered the question Hannibal continued. "So you know where your are and why? Do you remember my name?"
Scott clucked his tongue once, putting the food and drink down, to press his fingertips to the top most part of his scar as he stared ahead blankly.
"This always hurts." He admitted softly. "And because it hurts it makes my head hurt." He turned back to the doctor with a bright smile.
"Oh? I think remember everything!" He paused, lifting both hands, pointer fingers raised. "Well. At least 90 percent. You're my psychiatrist, Doctor Lecter right?" He frowned a bit, sipping on the water. "Now that I can somewhat think straight I'm kinda worried." He admitted, pulling a pickle out of the sandwich and eating it.
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Hannibal almost bared his teeth. Scott. Now that sounded like an actual name.
"Scott. Good. I brought you food. Eat. And drink. Then it's time for a shower and a change of clothes. Maybe a haircut. The others haven't been kind to your body."
He searched his eyes.
"Are you in pain?"
Scott slowly reached for the food, taking a bite as the human spoke.
He nearly choked when a hair cut was mentioned, bringing a hand to his mouth as he protested the notion, mouth still full.
"Not my hair!" He finally got out, food somewhat swallowed. "You leave my hair alone!" He coughed, grabbing the water and taking two massive gulps from it.
"Pain? Um. No more than usual, I think?"
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Hannibal sighed deeply.
"I want to hear it from you."
Again he dropped his guard just for as long as it took to say two words, again in Lithuanian:
"Your name."
Blink. Blank stare.
"I... I'm Daemon. Wait no... " he trailed off, frowning. "Wolf? Uh... Jean Paul." He tilted his head to the side, reaching up to play with the hair draped over his shoulder. "Why doesn't feel right." He glanced up at the doctor, genuinely confused. "I'm Scott."
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Hannibal couldn't tell but he was keenly aware that he didn't know who he was talking to. Wolf? Or Daemon? Or a third? He looked down at the other man contemplating his options.
"What's your name?"
The metacrisis blinked, confused.
"You know my name." He sat up, scratching at the back of his head. "I know I have many, but you've learned me quite well."
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Hannibal didn't understand the language, no but he understood the tone. And it was clearly mocking him. Oh two could play that game.
"Truthfully," he lowered his voice even though the camera was still off and switched to his native Lithuanian. "You are rude. And I eat the rude."
The smile remained on his face and his hand on Wolf's shoulder.
The patient smiled brightly, rising up from his hiding spot to wrap his arms around the doctor's neck, whispering sweetly into his ear. "Pretty please?" Seductively, in the same language. "Eat me?" He giggled. "Teach me a lesson, I want to feel you."
"I will. Another day." For the split of a second Hannibal gave in and let his human mask drop to show his patient the monster, the horror underneath. Then, as quickly as it had begun it was over.
"Let go of me," he continued in English. "Your behavior is highly inappropriate. You might enjoy it but I do not."
They chuckled, letting go and going flat on the bed, hair a riot about their head. Seeing the monster under his kind persona was a wicked pleasure, making the metacrisis grin widely.
"Yes sir." They giggled, once again mimicking Hannibal's language change. "Thank you."
For all he seemed okay, their mind was barely working, different personalities blending haphazardly to create a coherent front.
He was a tinderbox ready to break explosively.
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Hannibal didn't understand the language, no but he understood the tone. And it was clearly mocking him. Oh two could play that game.
"Truthfully," he lowered his voice even though the camera was still off and switched to his native Lithuanian. "You are rude. And I eat the rude."
The smile remained on his face and his hand on Wolf's shoulder.
The patient smiled brightly, rising up from his hiding spot to wrap his arms around the doctor's neck, whispering sweetly into his ear. "Pretty please?" Seductively, in the same language. "Eat me?" He giggled. "Teach me a lesson, I want to feel you."
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Honestly, at this point Hannibal was satisfied that the man talked at all. That he didn't understand him didn't matter that much. Although honestly, it was a bit odd. He knew several languages and had an idea of the structure of even more bit this one here was entirely unfamiliar. And yet Wolf spoke it.
"That's it." He adjusted his coat over Wolf just a bit without letting go of his shoulder. "You are talking. Talking means connection. Well done, Wolf. Keep talking. Don't stop. I'm proud of you.
Wolf made a soft miffed noise, getting two good handfuls of his hair and covering his face with hands and hair.
Despite his current feelings the human's warm touch was starting to arouse him, his body's sensitivity jacked up to ten; what with his master just pulling two orgasms out of him in just a few minutes.
"Talking means connection," Wolf repeated mockingly. "Humans. Why is it that you all can be so damn annoying?" He asked rhetorically, Wolf's mood taking a swift dip into pissy as he shifted to get one waterly glowing gold eye on the man, cheeks going pink.
Scott stared down at his console, pouting.
He was bored. So, so, goddamn bored.
Everyone was trapped by covid, and it wasn't any fun moving forward in time.
He was SO BORED.
Hannibal tilted his head and observed his patient for a moment. Wolf. Definitely. He could tell as much. Tie other one didn't cry. Probably never.
"You are scared. And alone. Away from people. And what's worse, away from anything familiar. You feel abandoned. You feel worthless. You wish you were back there. With the man who hurt you. Anywhere but here."
He put the food on the table together with a plastic cup of water.
"I will put my hand on your shoulder. It isn't much and I don't claim I understand what you feel." He did exactly that. "But I know pain when I see it. And I want to understand it. Will you help me with that?"
Wolf shuddered at the warm hand, the touch making him realize he was very very cold. He knew he should face the man, maybe try to make up whatever excuse to get the man to just leave him alone, but he just couldn't.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't really focus.
He just wanted his Master. He'd been so very close to that familiar touch, the comfort he desperately craved;
-but no.
He'd been denied freedom once again.
And now even Daemon was silent.
It was quiet all inside and out, and Wolf just felt so very alone.
Still weeping softly, Wolf shifted, curling his long frame into a tight ball, and used the human's coat to cover himself up, hiding from view.
"I miss him." He mumbled weakly, scrambled hormone-doped brain reverting to Gallifreyan in his frazzled state. "I want to go home..."