Whatever emotion that had taken Doctor Hugh is eased with his words and Cassius – Cassius is all too grateful for it. To have that small, distressed thing inside of his Doctor Hugh be melted away like mud in the rain. (The tension that replaces it is not one Cassius likes, either, but. But. He much prefers it over that - desperation.)
The elevator doors slide open, and as Doctor Hugh takes in his breath, Cassius gathers in his squirming until it slows. Quietens into a whispered rhythm that matches the not-quite human heartbeat under his palm.
(Back in decontamination, his Hunter cracks open an eye when the worms piled into their side start squirming loud, loud, loud with nerves. They throw open their arm and scoop as much of him as they can on top of their chest. They pick out one of his fatter worms and press a finger to its head.
“It’ll be fine, Cas.”)
Cassius peels himself away from Doctor Hugh slowly, stretching out the time and giving Doctor Hugh another few precious seconds to regain his composure. To put together his teeth and his claws. Cassius returns Doctor Hugh’s smile with a small, bland one of his own.
The room explodes into noise the moment Hugh steps in, is the thing - they've been expecting him, expecting the both of them, and Hugh wades in like he's going to war. Squared shoulders, rising voice, shouldering his way past a couple of them to dive into the center of the maelstrom. The fuck do you think you're doing, Argyros and we have that other thing in containment but not this one? and Hugh's rising shove a cock in it, Kosovo, I'll have you know--
There's no violence. Cassius' presence seems to dissuade that, from the amount of looks he gets, all fleeting and halfway nervous. There's a woman barely out of her teens with SECURITY across her chest and an edgy, nervous look every time Cassius moves, fingers twitchy at her side, as if waiting for the excuse to dive for the hip holster. Hugh jabs a finger at her at one point, don't you goddamn dare, you little monster--
And then there's the one that settles at Cassius' side. Taller than Hugh, dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail-bun-thing that can't be categorized fully as either, wearing a well-washed white coat starting to lose its color under the pressure of constant bleaching. A little tattered at the edges, now. He pulls his glasses off, polishes them on it as he leans in.
"Pretty crazy crowd, huh?" He goes to offer his hand, but realizes he's still got the glasses in that one. Stuffs them back on his face (they slide down the bridge of his nose immediately) and offers that hand with a little smile. "Dr. Singh. Just call me Singh. How's your stay been, Cassius?"
Cassius lingers just off to the side, his hands folded at his waist as Doctor Hugh marches forward not unlike his Hunter on a hunt. True to his word, he tries to reel in his more frightening traits – the squirm of him is kept to a minimum, his eyes trained only on Doctor Hugh and those immediately around him (and even then, he does not meet their eyes if he can help it).
His attention is only drawn away when – he is approached by a man in a doctor’s coat. Offered a hand and a name, and – oh. This is the one that Doctor Hugh had mentioned, is it not? The obnoxious show-off twat that does not shut up. The one that Cassius was supposed to stand near.
Friendly sort, Doctor Hugh had said. Cassius believes it. Can feel that warmth when Hieronymus Singh gives him a smile and calls him by name.
(Cassius has never felt so welcomed by a human of all things. It is - nice.)
It is hard to keep his squirming low, even harder to convince himself to take Hieronymus Singh’s hand into his own. He does not want to scare him, this Hieronymus Singh. Doctor Hugh said that they need him. Cassius is careful, so careful, when he wraps his fingers around Hieronymus Singh’s warm ones.
“My stay has been… nice, Hieronymus Singh,” Cassius says (because Doctor Hugh had called him that, and Doctor Hugh comes first). “I have seen the stars, have made a friend of a fellow monster, and the room gifted to me has been visited many times by many people.” He pauses. Remembers to let go of Hieronymus Singh’s hand. “I have enjoyed it. Even more so now that we have found my Hunter.”
He glances over to Doctor Hugh, to the people surrounding him, before his attention is drawn back. “You are not concerned? With my stay here?”
Hieronymus Singh seems to stab into him like a knife, but he tries not to let it show. Only the pull of his mouth into a wincing line for a half-second gives him away, and it melts into a smile a moment later.
"I see Hugh's been talking about me. Hope it's flattering." The lilt to his tone says that he knows it hasn't been - that he knows how Hugh feels about him, nevermind how he feels about Hugh. He glances over now, watches the man in question gesticulate wildly at a seemingly bored Captain Kennedy. The man's eyes are bright and darting beneath heavy, dark brows nonetheless. "Me? I'm not worried. If you wanted to... you know. Whatever they say you'll do. You would've done it already."
He gestures limply at the crowd, picking up intensity in their argument. It's nearly at a fever pitch.
"Hugh's got a good head on his shoulders. I trust him." A beat. A little softer, almost reluctant to say it at all: "But, uh. Between you and me, can we just... stick to Singh, maybe? Hugh and my mom are the only ones who call me... y'know."
A little flickery wave. Hieronymus. He hates the name.
With a sort of bite that Cassius is still trying to puzzle out, if he is being honest. Hieronymus Singh has been nothing but kind so far, much kinder than the rabbits that had prodded at his room’s glass. Doctor Hugh had described him obnoxious. A show-off. Neither of them kind descriptors.
The words themselves and Hieronymus Singh’s tone is why Cassius does not repeat them. Merely settles for, “Doctor Hugh had told me that you are a friendly sort -” he emphasizes it with a curl of his fingers that lace together a moment later “- and I am pleased to know he is correct.”
Cassius pauses, looks back to the crowd. Has to hold back the anxious squirm of him as the voices grow louder. He told Doctor Hugh he would try to restrain himself, and oh, he is trying.
“Very well, Friend Singh,” he says, dragging his eyes away back to his new human friend. “If it causes you discomfort, then I shall not address you as Hieronymus, however pleasant it may sound.” And it does. Sound pleasant. Rolls off of Cassius’ worm-stuffed tongue like a melody, like a poem. Friend Singh has that in common with Doctor Hugh, he thinks – not liking the prettier parts of themselves. Parts that Cassius himself is fond of.
His shell does a little roll as a sharp tone cuts through the air, his worms shifting tighter, seams rippling, but not tearing.
"Friendly? Huh." An easy shrug of his broad shoulders. He's got a few inches on Hugh, and a bigger spread when he folds his arms and watches the conflict with just as much care as Cassius does. "Probably the nicest thing he's said about me."
There's no I don't know what his problem is or wish I knew what was up with him, nothing like that. No hurt, no judgment. Just an easygoing acceptance, there. He watches Hugh and only glances back at Friend Singh, a little smile eking its way onto his face. A warm, charmed thing. It shifts into faint worry when Cassius' skin starts to writhe and buzz with nerves, the seams of him rippling - his hand falls easy on Cassius' shoulder, seemingly unbothered by the rippling beneath.
(Maybe he gives a curious squeeze. Lingers a bit. He's a doctor, after all, these sorts of things are curious.)
"Doubt it'll be long. Hugh's got a way of--"
The buzz stops abruptly, Kennedy's raspy voice cutting through like a knife. He's pulled the younger woman back by the arm, stopped her from marching off towards Cassius' spot - stopped her from running into Hugh's bristling form, hands hooked at his sides, readied.
"Stop. Shit. Everybody shut up." He lifts his other hand - the one not holding his daughter in place - to his brow, rubs at his eyes. The man looks like he's made of exhaustion given life. "We're not gonna tear this shitbucket apart fighting over this. They stay for now. We'll... keep talking about it. Anything happens--"
"And what if it does?" Adamska rumbles. "What the hell would we even do about it? Pretty sure we all know what was in that fuckin' trash bag, Argyros."
"Yes," Hugh sneers, stepping back. "What would you do about it?"
Kennedy's sharp, then.
"Easy. Problem comes up, we'll take care of it." A jab of his callused finger. "So make sure there's no problems, Hugh. That's your whole job, right? They're your issue now."
"Captain--" comes the younger woman, squirming out of his grip. "We--"
"We're done here." Kennedy wheels his chair around, back to a volley of screens. This is his office, clearly. The head of the ship, the controls, the monitors. "Everybody piss off."
Hugh's quick to make his way to Cassius' side. Gives Singh a look, simmering distaste melded with - something else. Something almost like--
"Thank you, Singh." To Cassius now, tone softer. "You're alright, I take it?"
Cassius looks to Friend Singh with an ever-calming shell, worms piling under the faint warmth of his palm like they are starved of it. The squeeze that follows is one that slots Friend Singh firmly into Cassius’ good graces.
(Perhaps even just behind Doctor Hugh himself. When has a human ever touched him so without the influence of a monster? Never, never.
Before his Hunter and he had appeared here, on this ship that sails through stars, they only had each other. Now they have Doctor Hugh, and once Cassius introduces him to his Hunter, they will have a Friend Singh, too.
Cassius really is lucky to have found himself here.)
As quickly as the crowded tension had reached a boil, it disperses just as fast, much to Cassius’ relief. Allows Doctor Hugh to come back to him in impatient strides, and he takes a stuttering step to meet him, one hand automatically reaching out to Doctor Hugh’s arm before he thinks better of it. Lets it drop to his side instead.
“Yes, Doctor Hugh,” comes Cassius’ answer, warm in ways he is not. The smile he feels does not reach his face. “I am alright. I have even made a friend of Friend Singh. He is not afraid of me like the others are.” A small, happy roll of his shell that softens as he glances over Doctor Hugh’s shoulder. “Has it all been settled, Doctor Hugh? They will not - vent our Hunter?”
(And it is our, now. The Hunter is as much Doctor Hugh’s as they are Cassius. As much as he is Doctor Hugh’s and theirs.)
"A friend. That's - hmm." A beat. A glance at Singh, brief as can be. "Very nice. Good to have friends, isn't it?"
"Yup," Singh replies, easy as ever. Gives Cassius' shoulder another squeeze and steps past, already looking to join the little crowd while it speaks amongst itself. "Take it easy, Cassius. Come see me when you can, if you feel like it. I'm down in--"
"In medbay, we know," Hugh finishes for him (interrupts), not sparing a glance back. Barely containing the roll of his eyes. "You're wearing a white coat, we all know you're a doctor. And no, the--"
A pause. Softer, now, as Singh departs. As Hugh refocuses entirely on Cassius.
"--our Hunter will be quite alright. Another few days of observation and you both should be fit to mingle in the ship, in fact. Go where you please." A tired wink. "Wasn't easy to negotiate that bit, you know. Should we head back now, tell them the good news?"
There’s another pleased roll to his shell as Doctor Hugh’s words wash over him. With Friend Singh gone, Cassius is almost eager to step closer to Doctor Hugh, to rest his head against his shoulder just barely, just enough to feel his warmth.
“I look forward to it, Doctor Hugh,” he says, and he does. He looks forward to accompanying his Doctor Hugh as he works, looks forward to visiting Friend Singh in the – medbay, was it? (Why Doctor Hugh assumed Cassius knew is beyond him, but he is sure he had his reasons.) “It will be nice to… mingle freely.”
He pauses then, hand just grazing against Doctor Hugh’s own, fingers brushing along his knuckles. He cannot be overly affectionate, no, not with the crowd so close, but – surely this is okay?
“We can head back if you think it best,” Cassius says after a moment, “but – the Hunter is resting now. They have been – exhausted, I think, from enduring their Song for so long on their own. I would like to let them sleep, if possible.”
(They must have been terribly worn, he thinks, from how they have now splayed out across the mattress, how his worms have spread over them like a blanket. The tension has bled out of them, their teeth as human as they’ll ever get. They never relax so unless it is in his garden.)
“...I know you have done much today for us, Doctor Hugh, to go against your peers. You have my appreciation.” He casts a look up at Doctor Hugh from under his lashes. “And my apologies, for - asking for more. Would it be possible to see this vivarium you had mentioned to the Hunter? The sooner I have access to my Garden, the sooner they can rest easier. The sooner that I can as well.”
"Ah, yes. The--" Hugh's fingers link with Cassius, just - for a moment. So briefly. Just long enough for a reassuring squeeze, to share his warmth before their company forces him to affect indifference. "Vivarium. Of course."
The crowd is shooting suspicious looks at their backs, now. Ignoring the way Singh comes in with something easy, a little laugh - raised hands and a smile and a joke that doesn't quite land as Hugh glances back, slinks an arm around Cassius' shoulders protectively. Gives the slightest urge towards the door, as if he thinks they might turn on them.
Singh is trying, though. And Hugh - Hugh values that, despite himself.
"Certainly. It's not much of a vivarium, to be quite honest, but you might enjoy the greenery. Talking about your Garden the way you do." A beat. Lower, conspiratorial: "Let's talk more about that on our own, shall we? Prying ears, all that."
Cassius’ shell hums with a purring wave as Doctor Hugh’s arm winds around his shoulders and soaks him in that all-too-but-not-quite human heat of his. It takes him a moment to reel it in, to make sure he does not seem too comfortable, but when he does, he allows Doctor Hugh’s anxious guidance to lead him towards the door. His mouth opens -
Let’s talk more about that on our own -
- and it falls shut a moment after, expression thoughtful as he casts a look behind him.
“Very well, Doctor Hugh,” said in a slightly softer tone, one learning how to be conspiring, but not quite landing just yet. “Until the vivarium.”
Cassius waits until they are safely outside of the room to lean a little into Doctor Hugh’s side, waits still until they’re hidden away by elevator doors to slot his hand along Doctor Hugh’s spine, before remembering himself and looping it around his hip instead. A quiet, pleased sigh escapes him as his worms loosen into a thrumming duplicate beat.
(He thinks he understands, now. How his worms provide his Hunter comfort.)
“I am glad that the decontamination process is almost over.” A half step further into Doctor Hugh’s side, his cheek pressing into his shoulder borderline needy (greedy, even). “It is… difficult to keep from you so. I miss your heat.”
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The elevator doors slide open, and as Doctor Hugh takes in his breath, Cassius gathers in his squirming until it slows. Quietens into a whispered rhythm that matches the not-quite human heartbeat under his palm.
(Back in decontamination, his Hunter cracks open an eye when the worms piled into their side start squirming loud, loud, loud with nerves. They throw open their arm and scoop as much of him as they can on top of their chest. They pick out one of his fatter worms and press a finger to its head.
“It’ll be fine, Cas.”)
Cassius peels himself away from Doctor Hugh slowly, stretching out the time and giving Doctor Hugh another few precious seconds to regain his composure. To put together his teeth and his claws. Cassius returns Doctor Hugh’s smile with a small, bland one of his own.
“Yes. I am ready, Doctor Hugh.”
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The room explodes into noise the moment Hugh steps in, is the thing - they've been expecting him, expecting the both of them, and Hugh wades in like he's going to war. Squared shoulders, rising voice, shouldering his way past a couple of them to dive into the center of the maelstrom. The fuck do you think you're doing, Argyros and we have that other thing in containment but not this one? and Hugh's rising shove a cock in it, Kosovo, I'll have you know--
There's no violence. Cassius' presence seems to dissuade that, from the amount of looks he gets, all fleeting and halfway nervous. There's a woman barely out of her teens with SECURITY across her chest and an edgy, nervous look every time Cassius moves, fingers twitchy at her side, as if waiting for the excuse to dive for the hip holster. Hugh jabs a finger at her at one point, don't you goddamn dare, you little monster--
And then there's the one that settles at Cassius' side. Taller than Hugh, dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail-bun-thing that can't be categorized fully as either, wearing a well-washed white coat starting to lose its color under the pressure of constant bleaching. A little tattered at the edges, now. He pulls his glasses off, polishes them on it as he leans in.
"Pretty crazy crowd, huh?" He goes to offer his hand, but realizes he's still got the glasses in that one. Stuffs them back on his face (they slide down the bridge of his nose immediately) and offers that hand with a little smile. "Dr. Singh. Just call me Singh. How's your stay been, Cassius?"
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His attention is only drawn away when – he is approached by a man in a doctor’s coat. Offered a hand and a name, and – oh. This is the one that Doctor Hugh had mentioned, is it not? The obnoxious show-off twat that does not shut up. The one that Cassius was supposed to stand near.
Friendly sort, Doctor Hugh had said. Cassius believes it. Can feel that warmth when Hieronymus Singh gives him a smile and calls him by name.
(Cassius has never felt so welcomed by a human of all things. It is - nice.)
It is hard to keep his squirming low, even harder to convince himself to take Hieronymus Singh’s hand into his own. He does not want to scare him, this Hieronymus Singh. Doctor Hugh said that they need him. Cassius is careful, so careful, when he wraps his fingers around Hieronymus Singh’s warm ones.
“My stay has been… nice, Hieronymus Singh,” Cassius says (because Doctor Hugh had called him that, and Doctor Hugh comes first). “I have seen the stars, have made a friend of a fellow monster, and the room gifted to me has been visited many times by many people.” He pauses. Remembers to let go of Hieronymus Singh’s hand. “I have enjoyed it. Even more so now that we have found my Hunter.”
He glances over to Doctor Hugh, to the people surrounding him, before his attention is drawn back. “You are not concerned? With my stay here?”
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"I see Hugh's been talking about me. Hope it's flattering." The lilt to his tone says that he knows it hasn't been - that he knows how Hugh feels about him, nevermind how he feels about Hugh. He glances over now, watches the man in question gesticulate wildly at a seemingly bored Captain Kennedy. The man's eyes are bright and darting beneath heavy, dark brows nonetheless. "Me? I'm not worried. If you wanted to... you know. Whatever they say you'll do. You would've done it already."
He gestures limply at the crowd, picking up intensity in their argument. It's nearly at a fever pitch.
"Hugh's got a good head on his shoulders. I trust him." A beat. A little softer, almost reluctant to say it at all: "But, uh. Between you and me, can we just... stick to Singh, maybe? Hugh and my mom are the only ones who call me... y'know."
A little flickery wave. Hieronymus. He hates the name.
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With a sort of bite that Cassius is still trying to puzzle out, if he is being honest. Hieronymus Singh has been nothing but kind so far, much kinder than the rabbits that had prodded at his room’s glass. Doctor Hugh had described him obnoxious. A show-off. Neither of them kind descriptors.
The words themselves and Hieronymus Singh’s tone is why Cassius does not repeat them. Merely settles for, “Doctor Hugh had told me that you are a friendly sort -” he emphasizes it with a curl of his fingers that lace together a moment later “- and I am pleased to know he is correct.”
Cassius pauses, looks back to the crowd. Has to hold back the anxious squirm of him as the voices grow louder. He told Doctor Hugh he would try to restrain himself, and oh, he is trying.
“Very well, Friend Singh,” he says, dragging his eyes away back to his new human friend. “If it causes you discomfort, then I shall not address you as Hieronymus, however pleasant it may sound.” And it does. Sound pleasant. Rolls off of Cassius’ worm-stuffed tongue like a melody, like a poem. Friend Singh has that in common with Doctor Hugh, he thinks – not liking the prettier parts of themselves. Parts that Cassius himself is fond of.
His shell does a little roll as a sharp tone cuts through the air, his worms shifting tighter, seams rippling, but not tearing.
“How long will they continue like this?”
(How long until Doctor Hugh is safe?)
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There's no I don't know what his problem is or wish I knew what was up with him, nothing like that. No hurt, no judgment. Just an easygoing acceptance, there. He watches Hugh and only glances back at Friend Singh, a little smile eking its way onto his face. A warm, charmed thing. It shifts into faint worry when Cassius' skin starts to writhe and buzz with nerves, the seams of him rippling - his hand falls easy on Cassius' shoulder, seemingly unbothered by the rippling beneath.
(Maybe he gives a curious squeeze. Lingers a bit. He's a doctor, after all, these sorts of things are curious.)
"Doubt it'll be long. Hugh's got a way of--"
The buzz stops abruptly, Kennedy's raspy voice cutting through like a knife. He's pulled the younger woman back by the arm, stopped her from marching off towards Cassius' spot - stopped her from running into Hugh's bristling form, hands hooked at his sides, readied.
"Stop. Shit. Everybody shut up." He lifts his other hand - the one not holding his daughter in place - to his brow, rubs at his eyes. The man looks like he's made of exhaustion given life. "We're not gonna tear this shitbucket apart fighting over this. They stay for now. We'll... keep talking about it. Anything happens--"
"And what if it does?" Adamska rumbles. "What the hell would we even do about it? Pretty sure we all know what was in that fuckin' trash bag, Argyros."
"Yes," Hugh sneers, stepping back. "What would you do about it?"
Kennedy's sharp, then.
"Easy. Problem comes up, we'll take care of it." A jab of his callused finger. "So make sure there's no problems, Hugh. That's your whole job, right? They're your issue now."
"Captain--" comes the younger woman, squirming out of his grip. "We--"
"We're done here." Kennedy wheels his chair around, back to a volley of screens. This is his office, clearly. The head of the ship, the controls, the monitors. "Everybody piss off."
Hugh's quick to make his way to Cassius' side. Gives Singh a look, simmering distaste melded with - something else. Something almost like--
"Thank you, Singh." To Cassius now, tone softer. "You're alright, I take it?"
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(Perhaps even just behind Doctor Hugh himself. When has a human ever touched him so without the influence of a monster? Never, never.
Before his Hunter and he had appeared here, on this ship that sails through stars, they only had each other. Now they have Doctor Hugh, and once Cassius introduces him to his Hunter, they will have a Friend Singh, too.
Cassius really is lucky to have found himself here.)
As quickly as the crowded tension had reached a boil, it disperses just as fast, much to Cassius’ relief. Allows Doctor Hugh to come back to him in impatient strides, and he takes a stuttering step to meet him, one hand automatically reaching out to Doctor Hugh’s arm before he thinks better of it. Lets it drop to his side instead.
“Yes, Doctor Hugh,” comes Cassius’ answer, warm in ways he is not. The smile he feels does not reach his face. “I am alright. I have even made a friend of Friend Singh. He is not afraid of me like the others are.” A small, happy roll of his shell that softens as he glances over Doctor Hugh’s shoulder. “Has it all been settled, Doctor Hugh? They will not - vent our Hunter?”
(And it is our, now. The Hunter is as much Doctor Hugh’s as they are Cassius. As much as he is Doctor Hugh’s and theirs.)
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"Yup," Singh replies, easy as ever. Gives Cassius' shoulder another squeeze and steps past, already looking to join the little crowd while it speaks amongst itself. "Take it easy, Cassius. Come see me when you can, if you feel like it. I'm down in--"
"In medbay, we know," Hugh finishes for him (interrupts), not sparing a glance back. Barely containing the roll of his eyes. "You're wearing a white coat, we all know you're a doctor. And no, the--"
A pause. Softer, now, as Singh departs. As Hugh refocuses entirely on Cassius.
"--our Hunter will be quite alright. Another few days of observation and you both should be fit to mingle in the ship, in fact. Go where you please." A tired wink. "Wasn't easy to negotiate that bit, you know. Should we head back now, tell them the good news?"
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“I look forward to it, Doctor Hugh,” he says, and he does. He looks forward to accompanying his Doctor Hugh as he works, looks forward to visiting Friend Singh in the – medbay, was it? (Why Doctor Hugh assumed Cassius knew is beyond him, but he is sure he had his reasons.) “It will be nice to… mingle freely.”
He pauses then, hand just grazing against Doctor Hugh’s own, fingers brushing along his knuckles. He cannot be overly affectionate, no, not with the crowd so close, but – surely this is okay?
“We can head back if you think it best,” Cassius says after a moment, “but – the Hunter is resting now. They have been – exhausted, I think, from enduring their Song for so long on their own. I would like to let them sleep, if possible.”
(They must have been terribly worn, he thinks, from how they have now splayed out across the mattress, how his worms have spread over them like a blanket. The tension has bled out of them, their teeth as human as they’ll ever get. They never relax so unless it is in his garden.)
“...I know you have done much today for us, Doctor Hugh, to go against your peers. You have my appreciation.” He casts a look up at Doctor Hugh from under his lashes. “And my apologies, for - asking for more. Would it be possible to see this vivarium you had mentioned to the Hunter? The sooner I have access to my Garden, the sooner they can rest easier. The sooner that I can as well.”
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The crowd is shooting suspicious looks at their backs, now. Ignoring the way Singh comes in with something easy, a little laugh - raised hands and a smile and a joke that doesn't quite land as Hugh glances back, slinks an arm around Cassius' shoulders protectively. Gives the slightest urge towards the door, as if he thinks they might turn on them.
Singh is trying, though. And Hugh - Hugh values that, despite himself.
"Certainly. It's not much of a vivarium, to be quite honest, but you might enjoy the greenery. Talking about your Garden the way you do." A beat. Lower, conspiratorial: "Let's talk more about that on our own, shall we? Prying ears, all that."
Translation: everybody else fuck off.
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Let’s talk more about that on our own -
- and it falls shut a moment after, expression thoughtful as he casts a look behind him.
“Very well, Doctor Hugh,” said in a slightly softer tone, one learning how to be conspiring, but not quite landing just yet. “Until the vivarium.”
Cassius waits until they are safely outside of the room to lean a little into Doctor Hugh’s side, waits still until they’re hidden away by elevator doors to slot his hand along Doctor Hugh’s spine, before remembering himself and looping it around his hip instead. A quiet, pleased sigh escapes him as his worms loosen into a thrumming duplicate beat.
(He thinks he understands, now. How his worms provide his Hunter comfort.)
“I am glad that the decontamination process is almost over.” A half step further into Doctor Hugh’s side, his cheek pressing into his shoulder borderline needy (greedy, even). “It is… difficult to keep from you so. I miss your heat.”