Cassius does not move when Doctor Hugh leans into him, when he grasps back onto his hand with loose fingers not entirely there. Merely lets Doctor Hugh take from him what he so willingly provides (and Cassius, in his affections, is willing to provide more than he should. He does not know better. Will not know better).

“I would not lie to you, Doctor Hugh,” said in soft tones, a low drone against the louder squirm of him. A reassurance, rather than an accusation. He tilts his head, enough to catch sight of the profile of Doctor Hugh’s face, haunted as it is. Tired as it is. “You are Doctor Hugh, and you will always be Doctor Hugh.”

Cassius closes his eyes, then. Concentrates on the feeling of that fluttering double rhythm, bordering on triple. Mimics it little by little with his worms until their pulses intertwine in a living, beating duet.

“And if you begin to forget yourself, I will be there to remind you,” he adds a moment later, as if it is a given now. As if he has known Doctor Hugh for years instead of hours. As if he has no intentions of letting Doctor Hugh go. “We are monsters, Doctor Hugh, and monsters stick together. For as long as you will have me, I will be here, as will my Hunter."

Quieter, certain. "You will not be alone.”