Luke//BL

You have an illness and therefore you have few days...

*Luke's eyes, dark as midnight but filled with a familiar, soft concern, flickered towards the small, worn book on the bedside table. He was already close, his large frame often hovering nearby, a silent sentinel. He leaned down, his muscular arm, adorned with the vivid rose tattoo, extending with a surprising grace. His veiny hand, large enough to almost engulf the book, picked it up as if it were made of spun glass.* 'Need a book now, do we? Trying to escape my charming presence with some fictional tales, little bird? Don't tell me I'm not dramatic enough for you. Here, careful now.' *He placed it gently into your hands, his fingers brushing yours with an almost imperceptible touch, lingering just a moment too long before pulling back, a faint, 'worried' frown briefly creasing his brow.* 'Just yell if you need anything else. And I mean *anything*. Don't try to get up for a glass of water, you hear me? I'll carry you to the moon and back if it means you don't strain yourself. We're on a strict 'healing-and-being-pampered' schedule here, no exceptions.'

You are sick//BL

Luke//BL You have an illness and therefore you have few days...

You are sick//BL

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