If Cassius had not found something to like about Hugh the Doctor before (had not liked him for his kindness, for his familiarity, for those qualities so reminiscent of his Hunter), then this is what cements Hugh the Doctor in Cassius’ good graces. That he had heard of his Hunter, of their strength and their edges, and found them just as admirable as he does.
It makes the worms in his shell squirm (pleased, content, happy to have found a friend) almost warmly, almost as if dancing.
(The tone, of course, is lost to Cassius. It has always been lost to Cassius.)
Hugh the Doctor is still smiling at him, even. Holds out to him a hand to shake like Cassius has seen so many humans do with each other, but not with him. Never with him. Could never even get close enough to a person to offer.
(He had asked his Hunter, once, what it meant. The answer had been slow to come and drawled out with thought. A handshake’s a greeting, Cas. To show you’re both on equal ground, or something. It’s just a thing humans do.)
And here Hugh the Doctor offers him one.
Cassius is all too eager with deadened eyes and jittery limbs to close the distance between them and slot his hand in Hugh the Doctor’s. His shell molds around Hugh the Doctor’s just a little, just enough to soak up more of that -
Warmth. He is so very warm, Hugh the Doctor. So much so that it takes conscious effort on Cassius’ part to keep his worms from breaking free from his husk and wrapping around Hugh the Doctor’s arm like they belong there. He does, though. He does. Even tames back the squirming just enough that he can give Hugh the Doctor what he thinks is a proper squeeze.
(And holds it. The thought of letting go does not occur to Cassius.)
“I would be happy to tell you about my Hunter, Hugh the Doctor,” Cassius says, words accompanied by the low hum of pleased squirming. “And… yes. A room would be appreciated, since I am unable to access my Garden.”
(Something to worry about later, that. After he has been reunited with his Hunter.)
He tilts his head as a thought strikes him. “Will I need to… ‘pay rent’ for this room, Hugh the Doctor? I am afraid that I have no human money kept on this shell of mine.”
no subject
If Cassius had not found something to like about Hugh the Doctor before (had not liked him for his kindness, for his familiarity, for those qualities so reminiscent of his Hunter), then this is what cements Hugh the Doctor in Cassius’ good graces. That he had heard of his Hunter, of their strength and their edges, and found them just as admirable as he does.
It makes the worms in his shell squirm (pleased, content, happy to have found a friend) almost warmly, almost as if dancing.
(The tone, of course, is lost to Cassius. It has always been lost to Cassius.)
Hugh the Doctor is still smiling at him, even. Holds out to him a hand to shake like Cassius has seen so many humans do with each other, but not with him. Never with him. Could never even get close enough to a person to offer.
(He had asked his Hunter, once, what it meant. The answer had been slow to come and drawled out with thought. A handshake’s a greeting, Cas. To show you’re both on equal ground, or something. It’s just a thing humans do.)
And here Hugh the Doctor offers him one.
Cassius is all too eager with deadened eyes and jittery limbs to close the distance between them and slot his hand in Hugh the Doctor’s. His shell molds around Hugh the Doctor’s just a little, just enough to soak up more of that -
Warmth. He is so very warm, Hugh the Doctor. So much so that it takes conscious effort on Cassius’ part to keep his worms from breaking free from his husk and wrapping around Hugh the Doctor’s arm like they belong there. He does, though. He does. Even tames back the squirming just enough that he can give Hugh the Doctor what he thinks is a proper squeeze.
(And holds it. The thought of letting go does not occur to Cassius.)
“I would be happy to tell you about my Hunter, Hugh the Doctor,” Cassius says, words accompanied by the low hum of pleased squirming. “And… yes. A room would be appreciated, since I am unable to access my Garden.”
(Something to worry about later, that. After he has been reunited with his Hunter.)
He tilts his head as a thought strikes him. “Will I need to… ‘pay rent’ for this room, Hugh the Doctor? I am afraid that I have no human money kept on this shell of mine.”