The Evangelical Counsels || Laszlo Kreizler x Fem!Reader || Chapter 1 - Introduction
Divider Credit: @cafekitsune / Chapter 2
Summary: After turning away another child from the orphanage her convent runs, the reader finds help in the one person considered irredeemable by the Church, Dr. Laszlo Kreizler.
Warnings: Descriptions of Abuse Regarding Minors, Mentions of Poverty, Homelessness, and Starvation Regarding Minors, Mentions of Violence Against Homeless People (including children), Period-Typical Depictions of Homelessness, Criticisms of Organized Religion, Romance Involving Nuns, Age Gap (~20s/~40s), Eventual Smut
Pairing: Fem!Nun!Reader x Laszlo Kreizler
A/N: Hello everybody! Sorry for disappearing for over a year, but as per usual, life gets in the way of very necessary fanfic-writing. Anyway, I hope to post more often, especially with this story, which I have already prepared this chapter and another chapter for. Warning: the tags stated in the warnings are an explanation for things that happen in the plot, they are not a "factor" in the romance between the reader and Kreizler.
New York City has always seemed to exist within a perpetual dichotomy of exuberant wealth that can flood the streets with ornate marble statues at a whim, whereas walking a few blocks in any direction might lead you to slums teeming with sickness and desperation. The rich that infest the country’s epicenter for culture and progress never notice this disturbing contrast, even when the hand of a small child reaches out, begging for help. This shameless apathy has always disturbed you, and that distinct, gnawing feeling of injustice only grows more unruly inside of the pits of your gut as you see the affluent dregs of society continue to live in purposeful ignorance.
Luckily, you're not completely powerless to the rich that practically rule the city. Being a devoted Sister at St. Vincent’s Orphanage has allowed you to help ease the struggle the children here suffer on a daily basis, albeit, it's not exactly to your standards. The convent you're aligned with is small, and St. Vincent’s Orphanage is even smaller. At this point, you've lost count of how many children you've had to cruelly turn away, the cramped space you serve already brimming at max capacity. Every time you have to look a child in the eyes and tell them that they can't get the help they truly deserve because of reasons out of your control, your resolve crumbles.
Almost always, a voice in the back of your mind tells you to wipe the child’s tears and take them home, give them the life they deserve–take them away from this overwhelming helplessness. But the vows you swore to years ago keep you as a bride of God, serving Him–and only Him–with the idea of rearing children on your own absolutely unacceptable. Your sole duty is to help these children survive until they ultimately find a suitable home.
And that's where you struggle to reconcile the issues of your faith. If you're to protect the children of this city at any cost and show them the unending kindness of the Lord, why are you having to carry a starved child on your hip while you march through the streets in search of the only place that can take them in–the one place your Sisters dare not go?
To ruminate on such a question, especially at this time, is a waste of precious energy. The young child you carry needs your attention, so you push aside your own deep-seated frustration and attempt to temporarily relieve them of their worries.
“The Kreizler Institute is an excellent place, Mona. Although they act in the absence of the Lord, their facility is magnificent, according to Mother Superior Ida,” you consoled, brushing locks of tangled hair from the child's face while deftly weaving past the crowds that surrounded you on all sides.
The child, whose name you found on the note she carried with her at St. Vincent’s doorstep, solemnly nodded against your shoulder, teardrops beginning to wet through the thick fabric of your veil. Once again, your resolve crumbled.
Having to bite your tongue due to the innate frustration of the situation, you hugged Mona tighter, believing that if she were close enough, you could imbue her with the strength and bravery to take on this unfamiliar place alone.
At the same time, you whispered to the girl in an attempt to empathize with her, “Oh, Mona. I know. I can't imagine how scared you are right now.”
That statement alone was too much for Mona, causing her to burst into blistering wails while her small hands balled into tight fists, grabbing at your garb as if she were bound to be taken from you at any moment. And that wasn't necessarily wrong. As of now, you were the only person she could fully trust, and in just one more block, you'd be disposing of her at another doorstep. All you could do was pray, and pray you did. Your hands shielded Mona, holding her close to your heart and soul while a litany of prayers flowed from your mouth like rushing rivers, perhaps drowning out the fears you both shared.
Mona only cried more, beginning to plead with you as your pace quickened, “Please don't leave me! Take me home with you! Please!”
It was all becoming far too much, and having ultimately arrived at the front steps of the Kreizler Institute, you fell to your knees and enveloped the girl’s body in yours. You didn't care how you might look to the cacophonous onslaught of strangers that filled the city’s sidewalks, the only thought in your mind was about Mona’s wellbeing. You barely knew this child, but your peers and superiors always chastised you for having too big a heart.
“I’m so sorry, my love, but you must be strong for me. They'll take good care of you here. You'll have whatever you could possibly need.” The sentiment was mostly to calm yourself as Mona’s arms just barely wrapped around your neck, but even then you could feel her hands clawing at the back of your veil, a desolate attempt to stave off the inevitable.
Your entire being ached; you had no idea how to soothe the girl, much less promise her safety. Just then did the idea enter your mind: you could lie to Mona. The situation showed no signs of getting better and you were at an absolute loss. Any other option you had would directly conflict with your faith, your future. Immediately, you fought off the preposterous notion of such a thing. Lying was a wicked sin, and most importantly, how could you betray a helpless child’s trust if this institute were to harm her in any way?
The only thing you could tell Mona was fickle in nature. It held no real promise and there was no way for you to tell if it would be true. Despite that, you were at your wits end. You couldn't let Mona back onto the streets of this city, not when she was so young–so frail.
You cautioned a deep breath and spoke as steadily as you could muster, “When more beds open at St. Vincent’s, I can come back for you. This doesn't have to be forever.”
There was no telling if and when more beds would free up, moreover, the rules regarding switching such care between temporary housing were complicated and strict. Mona could only be brought back to St. Vincent’s if serious evidence of wrongdoing were to be found at the Kreizler Institute, and to open such an investigation, especially if it were to be found pointless, would draw endless ridicule for not only the orphanage, but for your convent. In any case, your statement wasn't a complete falsehood. In the event of possible abuse, which you loathed to even consider, St. Vincent’s would seem much more appealing as an option for relocation. Much of the governing power in New York City still identified with any given denomination of the Christian faith. That being said, you prayed that Mona wouldn't have to experience such terror.
In spite of your worries, your reassurance seemed to calm Mona down, and her broken sobs ebbed into quiet sniffles. Carefully, the girl reared her head back just enough to look at you, her beautiful brown eyes shiny with tears.
“Do you mean it?” Mona asked, her voice raspy and barely a whisper. Dread sunk through your chest like a lead weight, but you forced a plaintive smile to further reassure the girl.
“As much as one can.” The words sounded bitter coming out of your mouth, and for good reason.
Mona’s head bowed before you brought her to your chest once more. Grimly, you swaddled the child and walked up the impressive steps of the Kreizler Institute for Wayward & Abandoned Children.
Once inside, your fears were somewhat quelled when faced with the sight of playing children racing around the elaborate halls of the Institute. A child’s laughter was one of the sure-fire ways to lighten your mood, and on such a day as this one, you needed the resolve to ensure Mona’s safety.
At first, your steps were careful and measured, the short heels of your boots clacking against the expensive marble flooring beneath you. In a couple more steps, you began to walk with a renewed confidence, especially once Mona’s head lifted from the safety of your veil to survey the interior. Eventually, you began to sport a slight smile when some of the children recognized you, ushering you over to their game of hopscotch, the bounds of the squares made up of colored string.
“Hey, it’s the nun from St. Vincent’s!” one of the children called. After that, the rest of the children recognized you as well and offered cheerful greetings, your presence a familiar sight from the dozens of soup kitchens New York City was home to.
“Nunny!” called one of the girls. She looked to be a year or two older than Mona, and after a pause, you finally placed where you’ve seen her before.
If your memory serves, the girl’s name is Alice, and she was just about the kindest person you had ever met. On multiple occasions when you had been volunteering your services at the kitchen closest to St. Vincent’s, she selflessly gave her food to people who had already been served, therefore barring them from officially receiving more that day. Alice had a particular knack for spotting those who needed it most, and was always eager to be of service. You recalled having to restrain yourself from encouraging Alice to join St. Vincent’s convent once she reached an appropriate age. You were firm on the choice that women had when it came to reciting the vows or not, and you wouldn’t use your position of authority to dictate otherwise.
A wide grin spread across your face as you began to rock Mona on your hip, earning a rewarding laugh from the girl, “Good morning, Alice. It’s a pleasure to see you again after all this time.”
Alice giggled, inching closer to you, “It’s nice to see you, too, Nunny.” Nunny was the lighthearted title the children you worked with decided on, explaining it was easier to remember than your true name.
Her mere presence made you feel better about the Institute–she wouldn’t be so giddy if the staff here weren’t fulfilling their duties.
“I was beginning to worry after not noticing your presence at the kitchen anymore,” you playfully remarked, chuckling at Alice’s nonchalant shrug.
“Sorry, Nunny. My friends told me about here and I sorta forgot to say anything,” Alice paused, quickly interjecting her own sentence, “but I would’ve sent you a letter if I knew your address!”
Barely able to contain your smile, you added, “Well, luckily St. Vincent’s will do. Do let me know if you’re allowed to send letters here so I can make sure to give you the proper address.”
Suddenly, you felt a menacing presence materialize behind you as Alice waved at the intrusion, “Hello, Mr. Kreizler!”
Turning to face the person Alice greeted, you were met with a stern-looking man dressed in exquisite textiles, no doubt imported from some far off land.
“It’s Dr. Kreizler, Alice. It’s best not to forget a person’s proper titles,” the man, presumably Dr. Kreizler, kindly instructed. Despite his intimidating appearance, he was gentle with the girl.
You were about to speak when Dr. Kreizler requested the children leave before returning to the daunting demeanor befitting a man of his stature, “I believe it’s well-known that servants of the Church aren’t allowed within these walls. Your kind has a habit of imposing nonsensical beliefs on the children.”
A feeling of hot shame washed over you, warmth tinging your cheeks, “I’ve been warned, Dr. Kreizler, but I’m not here to spread His word.”
Dr. Kreizler stiffened further, his mouth straightening into a thin line, “Then what is the purpose of your visit, Sister?”
Just as Dr. Kreizler cautioned, the Institute had a reputation for vehemently prohibiting the presence of any religious figures to prevent conflict amongst himself and the children. The wealthy alienist was unafraid of the feathers his atheism might ruffle, and he made sure to shield the children from what he called “propagandist doctrine.” Regardless of his blatant vitriol for religion, you hesitantly agreed with him on that particular stance. In your mind, religion was a choice for most people, nothing more. Even though you have devoted your life to His teachings, you hardly expected anyone else to do the same.
Slightly shaken, you pressed Mona closer to you, foolishly hiding her face from the man who might offer her asylum as you voiced your plea, “St. Vincent’s has been full for quite some time now, and I can’t turn away another child in need, Doctor. My superiors have spoken highly of your institute and I have no other options for her.” You motioned to the girl you still held, gently rubbing her back.
Dr. Kreizler softened at this, taking notice of the small girl you cradled. Prudently, he stepped closer, tilting his head to get a better look at Mona.
You continued, speaking more to Mona than to him, “I would personally care for her if I could. I don’t trust anywhere else in the city.”
Nodding, Dr. Kreizler spoke in a hushed tone, his focus entirely on Mona, “I understand,” the man paused before resuming, “it’s fortunate you see only the severity of the situation; I can’t recall a time when someone of your faith entered my facility with good intentions.”
Willing yourself to lighten the situation, if not for your sake, then Mona’s, you quipped, “A certain saying involving good intentions comes to mind, Doctor.”
The alienist smiled, the line narrow and somewhat forced, “Your humility is appreciated, Sister.”
“One can only have humility in a situation like this. I just hope that Mona will be able to stay here for the time being, at least until a bed at St. Vincent’s opens.” Your voice was light, hopefully soothing to the girl you aimed to protect.
At this, Dr. Kreizler attempted a joke himself, his accent making it decidedly sharper than yours, “Ah, I assume my institute still isn’t to your standards, then?”
“I don’t want to be here. I want to be with you,” Mona harshly stated, snuggling further under your veil. Dr. Kreizler stiffened, caught off guard by the confident proclamation.
You sighed somewhat, speaking to Mona first, “I know, my love, but Dr. Kreizler is a good man. He knows how to help,” then, turning to Kreizler, you whispered, “You can help her, Doctor?”
It was obvious to you that Dr. Kreizler had a weakness for children, if his facility dedicated to their health and safety wasn’t proof enough.
“I can help,” he said mostly to Mona before addressing you, “However, it seems the child has an attachment to you. It might prove helpful if you offered your assistance while I go over the necessary paperwork.” The last part was strained, almost as if he abhorred the idea of someone of the cloth helping him in any way.
After your tentative agreement, Kreizler swiftly led you to his office to begin Mona’s processing. Once inside, you took note of how the space was simultaneously tidy and luxurious, the walls and any available surface decorated with artifacts and hefty textbooks that featured gold lettering on the spines. The chairs you and Mona sat in were similarly fine, made with plush velvet and hand-carved mahogany that was the bulk of their appearance. Now that Mona had separated from your hip with much resistance, she allowed herself to be swept up in the opulence of the Institute. You couldn’t deny the finery of such a place, either. St. Vincent’s was noticeably barren, only housing the absolute necessities that fell in line with the ordinance of your faith and what orphanages require. It had been some time since you visited a place like this, and you weren’t sure whether to include Dr. Kreizler in the group of New York moguls that flaunted their wealth so readily, or if this was a sign that he took pride in the conditions the children here lived in.
The latter seemed to be the obvious choice given Dr. Kreizler’s treatment of the children so far, and his mission with the facility in general. The ostentatious socialites you encountered wouldn’t deign to entertain such a venture, especially if it involved the downtrodden youth of the city.
Dr. Kreizler’s voice startled you out of your stupor, “Did any adults accompany Ms. Walker when you found her outside of St. Vincent’s Orphanage?”
“No. Mona was alone,” you quickly supplied. Dr. Kreizler scribbled the information on a sheet of paper, the sound of his fountain pen filling the nearly silent room.
“Other than a last name, does Ms. Walker know any other identifying details about her parents?” Kreizler asked.
You faced Mona, watching her run the pad of her pointer finger against the raised engravings of the chair’s arm, “I’m afraid not, Doctor. The only information I have regarding her parents is vague. She says they were never around much, to begin with.” Dr. Kreizler gave a curt nod and returned to his form while you reached out and smoothed Mona’s hair.
After a brief moment, Kreizler returned his attention to you, “You’re sure that Ms. Walker hasn’t run away?”
Mona’s head snapped up and you clarified before any upset could be caused, “The only thing Mona had with her was a short note from her mother. It says that neither her mother, nor her father, can afford to take care of her anymore, hence her appearance at St. Vincent’s.”
“And this isn’t a note Ms. Walker crafted herself?” You knew the reasoning behind Dr. Kreizler’s questions, but couldn’t help but feel offense on Mona’s behalf at the coldness of his tone. You had to reassure yourself he was only ruling out any possibility of Mona’s parents returning and claiming her.
Drawing the note from a pocket hidden on the underside of your apron, you reached across the expanse separating you from the doctor, “I’ve saved it–just in case.”
Dr. Kreizler took the piece of dirtied paper from your hand before sitting back in his chair, carefully unfolding the note and analyzing the contents.
As he did this, you allowed yourself to express your thoughts on the matter, “The handwriting is too legible to be from a child this young, especially from one whose had no formal education so far,” suddenly feeling another wave of sorrow take control of your heart, you continued, “I’m not sure Mona can even write.”
Kreizler clicked his tongue before folding the note and placing it into a fresh file he had procured at the beginning of this meeting, “I would have to agree with you.”
Some time passed as you helped Dr. Kreizler finish the paperwork that would allow Mona to stay at the Institute, and before long, the young girl would drift off to sleep in the chair beside you. You figured this was the first time in a while that she had been able to fall asleep easily, and a spring of hope flourished within you at the thought of Mona having a warm bed from now on.
Finally, Dr. Kreizler realized Mona’s lack of response and watched her sleeping form contemplatively, carefully setting his pen down and rising from his seat. The action caused you to rise, too, stepping closer to Mona’s chair and gently patting the top of her head.
Allowing yourself to smile at the sight, you began to speak before matching Dr. Kreizler’s gaze, “Might I help bring Mona to a bed?”
Kreizler smiled, too, this time being more genuine and warm than before, no doubt a symptom of Mona’s peaceful slumber, “I think Ms. Walker would greatly appreciate that.”
With great care, you brought Mona into your arms once again and rested her head on your shoulder, happily listening to the sound of her snoring.
Looking back at Dr. Kreizler, you nodded once, smiling as you spoke, “Thank you for your help, Doctor. I hope you can forgive me for my sudden appearance today, I’ll make sure to keep a great distance between myself and here when possible.” Kreizler softly laughed at your humorous comment, closing the distance between you and him.
“I give you permission to access these premises if another situation like this occurs in the future,” Kreizler paused, his smile widening, “Do take note that that only applies to you.”
Suppressing a laugh, you shook your head in understanding, “Of course, Doctor. Although, I don’t think my Sisters would care to come here. Some admit to being afraid of your kind.” You mirrored the doctor’s earlier comment, teasing him slightly.
For a moment, Dr. Kreizler stared into your eyes, squinting as if he were searching for something within them, before questioning you with a mischievous tone, “My kind?”
An even brighter smile spread across your features, a playful twinge in your words, “Atheists.”
At last, the serious man in front of you laughed without restraint, and you felt a foreign heat rise in your chest, “I should’ve known. A being worse than the criminals that populate this city.”
Shrugging, you teased again, “Their apprehension is unfortunate. If they’d take the time to know someone like you, they’d realize how good natured you all can be, sans religious obligation.”
Dr. Kreizler hummed in agreement and took a longing glance at you before making his way to the entrance of the office, “The threat of eternal damnation has never been a driving factor in my operations, Sister. I believe more people are like that than some would care to admit.”
Thoughtfully, you considered his statement while walking to the door, softly rocking the girl in your arms, “It is a grievous assumption of the human condition, one I hope isn’t true.” Kreizler met your gaze as he absently opened the door, his dark eyes stoking the flames you felt stir within you.
Not sure how to continue, and thoroughly scared of the strange feelings that were beginning to take root in your being, you bowed your head and walked through the door, Dr. Kreizler not far behind.
The journey to one of the many dormitories that the Kreizler Institute housed was long, but not without interest. Children and staff alike were all around you, contributing to the comfortable nature of the space with their rambunctious chatter and lively games. While Mona comfortably rested against the surface of your coif, you surveyed the massive paintings that lined the intricate halls, all pieces of fine art that could easily belong in a museum. The pictures mainly depicted positive scenes, like meditative studies of lush landscapes, or vibrant portraits of greatly important figures.
Kreizler noticed your intrigue and began to comment on the decorations that marked your path, “It’s important that the children here are given just as much access to the arts as anyone else might have. Multiple studies have shown that exposure to art and music drastically improve the quality of life for people of all ages, especially those suffering from mental or physical ailments.”
You hummed, pleased by the new information, “Which is your specialty–the minds of children?”
“That would be correct, Sister. I dedicate my time to helping those who society deems unworthy of such kindness,” Dr. Kreizler informed, curtly waving to the swaths of youth who soared past with beaming grins and loud hellos.
“Then a noble man, you are, Dr. Kreizler. I don’t know many people–rich or poor–who would carry out the necessary work you do on a daily basis,” you bleakly commented. You were all too familiar with the spiteful indifference the country suffered from nowadays.
Kreizler turned to face you, not losing a step in the process, “Not even members of the faith?”
A gnarled guilt churned in your stomach; Dr. Kreizler wasn’t wrong. In fact, most people who proclaimed their allegiance to any branch of Christianity had not only become attached to the pervasive apathy that threatened to consume all, but were, in most instances, the reasons behind it. Many of the folk who attended church regularly looked down on the work you did, citing that it was unbecoming for a woman of your calling to share a space with the sinful and uncleanly. To them, the “beggars” of the city didn’t deserve charity, no matter how helpless.
“Unfortunately, no,” drawing a tentative breath, you explained, “A startling number of them are of the mindset that the impoverished somehow deserve the dismal circumstances they’re often forced under. No matter how hard I, or my Sisters, might try to teach them otherwise, they’d rather have some claim at superiority than help their fellow man.”
Dr. Kreizler questioned further, “And why do you think that is?”
Readjusting the girl on your side, memories of the mistreatment children like Mona face from such a lot consumed your thinking. Supposed Christians would go out of their way to abuse the young and homeless, either through stealing their clothes, food, or makeshift homes, or by pelting them with stones picked up off the streets. Seeing the reactions they could garner, it would only spur them to escalate, for no other reason than abject cruelty. Their only defense was that it was their duty as followers of Christ to punish those who didn’t seek to cleanse themselves of sin. It was a strong enough argument as not many people, Christian or otherwise, would find the bravery to speak out against these actions disguised as a shared religious responsibility.
Finally, you came to an answer, and it wasn’t one you were proud of, “Because it is easier to hide behind an all-powerful God than it is to do what is objectively right, even if the Lord urges His followers to sacrifice for others at all costs. They think that because they attend church and give donations to the congregation that they are guaranteed a spot in Heaven.” The anger was palpable in your voice, and your cheeks burned at the realization.
Quickly, you supplied an apology, “Forgive me, Doctor. I forget myself.”
“Don’t apologize, Sister. Your honesty is refreshing. I haven’t met a nun so critical of her own faith before,” Dr. Kreizler remarked.
Appalled, you defended yourself as the three of you rounded a corner, “I am simply critical of the people who claim to share my faith. I do not renounce His word.”
Kreizler led you to a door marked with a golden plaque that read: Girl’s Dormitory 1. The alienist ushered you and Mona through, a vexing grin on his face.
“You do not find yourself questioning His teachings, Sister?” Kreizler asked, his amusement plain.
Entering the dormitory, you found two rows of beds situated on opposite sides of the room with hefty chests at the foot of each one. Drawings made up most of the decorations in the room, besides the toys that had been left out on each girls’ bed. Beside each cot sat a nightstand with an oil lamp adorning the wooden surfaces, giving the room a warm glow. On the chests were small name cards, written by the owner of the bed. Quickly, you picked one without a name and walked ahead of the doctor, cheeks heating once again.
Dr. Kreizler pushed further, following you in stride, “Your silence is quite the answer.”
Deciding to avoid the question for now, you proposed another instead, “I presume this would be Mona’s?” The Good Doctor nodded and you sunk down to lay Mona on the comfortable mattress that engulfed the girl’s slight frame.
Heaving a hearty sigh, you knelt beside her, pushing hair from her delicate, auburn face. Quietly, you spoke to the alienist while keeping your focus on Mona, “May I say goodbye to her, Dr. Kreizler?”
Deciding to ignore your deflection of the previous subject, Dr. Kreizler responded, “That would be best.”
You whispered a faint thank-you before rousing Mona. The girl’s eyes struggled to open at first and there was no doubt this has been the longest stretch of sleep she’s been able to secure.
Mona took in her new surroundings as she reached for your hand, “Do I get to stay?”
Smiling, you affirmed her question, “Yes, my love,” you paused, remembering another critical piece of information that came during the walk to the dormitory, “Dr. Kreizler also gave you permission to come back to St. Vincent’s whenever there’s space.”
Mona’s face brimmed with unadulterated joy, “Really?”
Dr. Kreizler chimed in to quell any of Mona’s doubts, relaying that she would be able to request visits with you whenever she pleased.
“Well, what if I want to stay here and only visit with Nunny?” Mona had picked up the silly nickname during your brief exchange with Alice, who you hoped would look after her in your absence.
The alienist laughed, “That works just as fine, Ms. Walker.” Only then did you sneak a glance at Dr. Kreizler, just in this instance beginning to appreciate his handsome features now that you were able to see more of his good nature.
Kreizler noticed your staring, however the grin that surfaced while interacting with Mona hadn’t ceased, instead only growing in intensity. The tips of your ears began to grow balmy, forcing you to tear away from his knowing stare in order to rebalance yourself.
“Just make sure to give Dr. Kreizler ample time to prepare for my visits, Mona. You’ll have weekly meetings where this can be negotiated,” you instructed. Mona giggled, nodding earnestly before leaping up to wrap her hands around your neck again.
You leaned forward and rubbed soothing patterns into her back, grateful that her care was finally secured.
The embrace lasted sometime, causing Kreizler to point out Mona’s silence, “It seems Ms. Walker has fallen asleep again. We should allow her time to rest.”
Taking your cue, you rose and followed Dr. Kreizler as he left the dormitory, both of you stopping just in front of the now closed entryway.
Even after sharing a sweet moment, Kreizler didn’t allow you to escape his interrogating so easily, and scratched the scruff of his thick beard while pressing you for answers once again, “If I recall correctly, you hadn’t answered my last question.”
The space between you and Dr. Kreizler had become dangerously small, and in such close quarters, you could smell the heady scent of his expensive cologne. Your brain fogged, an overwhelming combination of feelings still unknown plaguing your body and mind.
“That is because I have never thought to question His teachings before, Doctor,” as you resumed the subject, words tumbled from your mouth without much control, creating quite the mess.
Your eyes widened when you heard the statement slip from you so easily, drawing a deep laughter from the man in front of you. If not caught up in the whirlwind of what you had just implied, you would have noticed how the honeyed sound made your heart squeeze deliciously.
Dr. Kreizler’s already overpowering confidence increased tenfold, and you could hear it in his voice as he remarked, “That’s right. One of the few things they don’t cover during your novitiate. It’s quite interesting.”
Too many emotions were beginning to flood your mind, and that was as much a danger as what Dr. Kreizler was proposing in the first place. You needed to leave immediately and right yourself before something inexcusable happened.
Bowing your head in submission, you eked out an apology that came out faster than what you were apologizing for, “Forgive me, Doctor, but I must leave. I am forever indebted to you.”
You left before Kreizler could answer, unwilling–or more accurately, unable–to handle whatever else could come out of that sly mouth of his.
