Luther always has a smile for him. For everyone. Where most of the Hargreeves frown, grimace or mask, Luther pulls mirth and enthusiasm from seemingly nowhere.
It's becoming clearer to Viktor that his reserves, whatever and wherever they are, are running dry.
No sweet, unassuming tone. No smile in anticipation of companionship. Just what. After his glassy-eyed breakfast and what Viktor suspects are a few sleepless nights, he thinks about how he might have feared rejection at a time like this -- and how he doesn't now.
"It's me," Viktor clarifies, since Luther doesn't seem to be turning to look at him. He watches him with quiet sadness. "Thought I might find you here."
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It's becoming clearer to Viktor that his reserves, whatever and wherever they are, are running dry.
No sweet, unassuming tone. No smile in anticipation of companionship. Just what. After his glassy-eyed breakfast and what Viktor suspects are a few sleepless nights, he thinks about how he might have feared rejection at a time like this -- and how he doesn't now.
"It's me," Viktor clarifies, since Luther doesn't seem to be turning to look at him. He watches him with quiet sadness. "Thought I might find you here."