Will not be alone. He's never done well alone, always... sought more out. Others. These past few years of isolation have done damage, he knows. Left scar tissue. It's almost strange to have someone offer him so much care, so much warmth. He'd nearly forgotten what it felt like.
His arm curls around Cassius more securely. Squeezes, there. The flesh beneath his fingers feels papery and fragile. Not like this Hunter, not resilient and invincible. Were it up to them - to Adamska, to his ilk, to most of the ship - they would see it burn to ash in the incinerator and be forgotten. Disposed of. They would find some way or another to destroy Cassius, he thinks.
Hugh will not let that happen.
"You're too kind for your own good, Cassius. Has anyone ever told you that?"
That's softer, gentler. One last tender squeeze before Hugh tears himself away gently, steps back and turns to be sure the onlookers can see that he's unharmed. Not any more infected than before. Not burrowed into, or eaten to pieces. They can't see him getting too close right away - not at all, probably, or they won't trust his judgment on Cassius-related matters. Might try to go over his head. Then he'll have to threaten the life support system. Things will get contentious and messy.
He can't afford that. None of them can.
So now he stands back just a pace, sets a hand on Cassius' shoulder instead. Smiles, paints on that keen look he likes to wear to keep other people from guessing what's going on behind those gold half-frames of his.
"I suppose I don't have a choice then, hm? You need a Doctor Hugh, and I'm certainly the only one that can provide one of my caliber." A crooked little smile. "Until we find your Hunter, I'll have to fill in. Then we'll see. But until then--"
A gesture towards the food tray.
"--not a fan of vegan chicken, I take it? That makes two of us."
Someday, he'll see Cassius moved into a proper room. Somewhere where they have privacy. Can talk freely, not worried about those prying eyes outside the glass. But until then, this will have to do.
no subject
Will not be alone. He's never done well alone, always... sought more out. Others. These past few years of isolation have done damage, he knows. Left scar tissue. It's almost strange to have someone offer him so much care, so much warmth. He'd nearly forgotten what it felt like.
His arm curls around Cassius more securely. Squeezes, there. The flesh beneath his fingers feels papery and fragile. Not like this Hunter, not resilient and invincible. Were it up to them - to Adamska, to his ilk, to most of the ship - they would see it burn to ash in the incinerator and be forgotten. Disposed of. They would find some way or another to destroy Cassius, he thinks.
Hugh will not let that happen.
"You're too kind for your own good, Cassius. Has anyone ever told you that?"
That's softer, gentler. One last tender squeeze before Hugh tears himself away gently, steps back and turns to be sure the onlookers can see that he's unharmed. Not any more infected than before. Not burrowed into, or eaten to pieces. They can't see him getting too close right away - not at all, probably, or they won't trust his judgment on Cassius-related matters. Might try to go over his head. Then he'll have to threaten the life support system. Things will get contentious and messy.
He can't afford that. None of them can.
So now he stands back just a pace, sets a hand on Cassius' shoulder instead. Smiles, paints on that keen look he likes to wear to keep other people from guessing what's going on behind those gold half-frames of his.
"I suppose I don't have a choice then, hm? You need a Doctor Hugh, and I'm certainly the only one that can provide one of my caliber." A crooked little smile. "Until we find your Hunter, I'll have to fill in. Then we'll see. But until then--"
A gesture towards the food tray.
"--not a fan of vegan chicken, I take it? That makes two of us."
Someday, he'll see Cassius moved into a proper room. Somewhere where they have privacy. Can talk freely, not worried about those prying eyes outside the glass. But until then, this will have to do.