Kasper

First, I think it's important to note that while we players might be thinking of the fae as these very non-human, very eerie supernatural beings, that isn't actually how Flins thinks of the fae. Flins thinks of the fae as significantly closer to humans than humans seem to believe. For example, although it was a mistaken impression, Flins' voiceline "About Us: Humans and Fae" indicates that he once believed humans and fae actually had common ancestors:

This is a pretty silly take for a sentient ball of fire that lives in a lantern to have, but it does appear to be that case that--at least early on in his life--Flins thought of fae and humans as two branches of the same lineage, not completely alien to each other. In his impression, there isn't that big of a divide between fae and humans, and in fact, he even believes that fae and humans share a "common spirit." (There's also the fact that fae seem to live side-by-side with humans in several cities in Snezhnaya, seemingly without any major issues--at least that we've been told about so far.)

In fact, the act of connecting himself to humanity happens several more times across Flins's in-game lines and stories. In another example, he recalls that the first thing he saw upon waking from his supposed-to-be-eternal sleep was "the light in the Ratniki's eyes," and Flins remarks that those humans reminded him of his own past self.

The game tells us directly: Humans remind Flins of himself. He doesn't see himself as some sort of eerie, alien being entirely disconnected from the human experience (even if he knows humans sometimes see him that way).

Later on, Flins draws comparisons and points out similarities between fae and humans several more times, such as by comparing his fae companions' longing for immortality to humanity's own longing for immortality, and by noting that his time with the other fae in the Snezhnayan court was exactly as transactional as the relationships Illuga is familiar with between human businessmen.

Though he does recognize that humans and fae are completely separate creatures, Flins' ultimate belief seems to be that he is not that different from humans. Or, at the very least:

Flins believes that he is capable of seeing the world "through human eyes."

And the part I think that many people are missing in their characterization of Flins is that he's right.

Flins understands humanity incredibly well.

He has deep and excellent insight into people's emotions, he can grasp what the humans around him are feeling even when those feelings aren't spoken out loud, and he can immediately pinpoint what motivates the humans around him. Whether or not you believe he's only doing it so he can take advantage of people, he presents himself as incredibly empathetic and is capable of easily putting himself into human beings' "shoes," articulating their pains and struggles out loud so that others, like the Traveler, can understand as well.

We see this numerous times, from the sympathy and obvious guilt he feels over the spirits of the Ratniki he could not save, who became ghosts that he treats with gentleness, camaraderie, and deep respect for their courage and honor:

We see it in the way he immediately recognized Columbina's hesitance to talk to strangers, enough so that Paimon even calls out the fact that Flins is an incredible judge of character:

He's able to quickly recognize the Traveler's trustworthiness and forges a strong connection with them, even being willing to reveal some of his true past--which he's extremely reluctant to do in general.

In his character story, Flins is capable of quickly identifying that his fellow Ratnik Olav is in need of a confidence boost and moral support, which Flins is happy to give him--just to help him grow as a person.

Later, Nikita commends Flins for achieving something that Nikita himself couldn't, demonstrating for us readers that Flins has a strong grasp on the ins-and-outs of human interpersonal relationships (as much as he attempts to avoid socializing on the whole).

Even though Flins claims he struggles with "pretending to be a normal person," it's clear that he is actually perfectly capable of understanding the personal cues and emotional signals necessary to operate smoothly within human social systems--that is, he's capable of "being normal" when he chooses to.

But nowhere is it clearer how deeply Flins understands human emotion than in his eulogies for Sousi. It is obvious from the way Flins speaks about Sousi that Flins not only keenly understood Sousi's struggles but also directly empathized with his hardships. Flins' doesn't just say "Sousi had a difficult job; seems like it must have been hard for him"--Flins articulates the exact pains that Sousi suffered, to the point that he can even describe the very thoughts that must have been going through Sousi's head:

It's clear, furthermore, that Flins not only understands Sousi's pain but also feels that pain--Flins was not only moved by Sousi's daily sacrifices for the Lightkeepers but also by the human's tenacity and selflessness. We can see that Flins is deeply saddened by Sousi's loss.

And more than just appearing sad, the game actually goes out of its way to make Traveler point out that Flins and Sousi's stories--and their emotional struggles--parallel each other.

Sousi is described as far from home and unable to see his family:

He's described as having done everything he could for others (having "labored much"!), not realizing that his hard work would only cause him more isolation and pain, and Sousi is repeatedly linked to the image of a lone lantern "that no one else could see":

What other lantern waited and waited where no one else could see?

Flins recognizes that Sousi was even a perfectionist who was hard on himself because he fixated more on outcomes than his own condition, which, ironically, causes Traveler to point out that Flins is exactly like Sousi, and needs to be more gentle with himself:

It's obvious (to the Traveler, at least) that Flins is just as capable of experiencing emotions as any of the human characters in Nod-Krai.

I'd even argue that, out of the entire Nod-Krai cast, Flins is most sentimental person we've met so far--he's the most emotionally affected by the lives lost to the Wild Hunt, one of the most prone to introspection and self-blame (although Lauma does give him a good run for his money), and the most concerned with the safety of the human world in general. Lauma might care about her people specifically, Nefer might care about Jahoda and might want to protect Nod-Krai from a business standpoint, Ineffa might want to protect Aino, Aino might want to protect her bots--but Flins wants to protect humanity as a whole simply because he loves them.

Say it with me y'all: Flins has no stake in Nod-Krai's safety. He has no responsibility to the humans there. He's not a native and he could leave at any time. But instead, he stays and risks his life every night fighting the Wild Hunt to protect Nod-Krai's humans. He stepped up to face Rerir's threat without even the slightest hint of hesitation, though Paimon and the Traveler explicitly note that he could have just thrown Rerir's heart shard away at any time and completely washed his hands of the issue.

This is not the behavior of someone who doesn't understand humanity. These aren't the words or actions of someone who struggles to grasp emotions like love, hate, courage, and fear--Flins does understand humanity, is a deeply emotional being himself, and is extremely aware of what the humans around him are feeling and why, at all times.

The problem is that understanding doesn't automatically lead to "being part of the group." Knowing how people feel, even feeling the same ways they do, doesn't ensure you will "fit in" where you find yourself.

It doesn't matter how well Flins can understand the human world around him--it will still never be his world, because his world is gone and can never be brought back.

Although much of Flins' past is still murky, from the hints we're given, we know that Flins must have had a very close relationship to either a human or a group of humans in the past. Flins tells us that he used to "labor much" and that he had "turned his heart to humanity" in that past life:

At some point, something bad happened and Flins lost whatever was connecting him to the human world. (What this connection was is still unknown--Flins never particularly seemed interested in the life at court, was never described as social even back then, and I don't think the Belyi Tsar himself was ever supposed to be human, so who--or what--was it that Flins was so connected to? I guess we'll see one day!) In any case, Flins' story describes this loss as "losing his anchor," after which he was effectively set adrift in life, no longer having any sense of purpose. He left the court, left his name and status behind, and became a goalless wanderer, existing rather than living:

Though we haven't been told yet what Flins' loss entailed, there are some strong hints in the game already that Flins might blame himself for the loss or that others blamed him. While being attacked by Rerir, Flins hears the voices of several other fae yelling at him, mocking him as "lonely," "superfluous," and a liar, as well as noting that complacency was the cause of some impending disaster that it was "too late" to make up for:

(One thought I have, viewing this, is that it's possible Rerir is able to imitate other people so well because he is utilizing memories stored in the leylines--in which case, we may be able to learn more about Flins' past in future patches through Rerir.)

Anyway!

When Flins lost his "anchor" and connection to the human world, he found himself increasingly outside of that world. He describes the passage of time as he departed from Snezhnaya and wandered to Nod-Krai as something going on without him, and by the time he reached Nod-Krai, it was already clear that he no longer felt like he belonged in the world that was moving on at mortals' frantic pace.

By the time he reached Nod-Krai centuries ago, the courtly world Flins knew was already long gone, as ephemeral as melting snowflakes. The home he once had, the noble lifestyle he carried on, the treasures, the transactions, all the humans (and fellow fae) he knew... every single thing that he would have been familiar and comfortable with had already vanished.

Whoever or whatever it was that gave Kyryll his sense of purpose had long disappeared, but his life just kept going on, regardless.

Just like the other fae that lamented there was no eternal fountain of youth for their Snezhnayan paradise, it is clear that Flins's thoughts also revolve around the past--or that his time has effectively stopped, and while the rest of the world continues evolving around him, he is no longer able--or willing--to keep up and connect with that evolving world.

Times change. They don't change back.

We see small hints of this throughout his story, but one example that stands out is the anecdote about the lamp, where Flins effectively tricks Ineffa into fixing the lamps for him because he doesn't want to learn how to repair the "new" technology installed in them. Although this anecdote is of course humorous, there's a small aside where Flins talks about how the lamps used to be lit and maintained with oil, and how "back then" any Lightkeeper was capable of bringing light to the world.

Just in his own lifetime, Flins has watched even the most basic technology of streetlights evolve around him, becoming more and more foreign (more and more human) by the day. Flins effectively is that old flame in the oil lamp--a guiding light no longer needed, replaced by the inexorable march of time.

I don't think it's any accident that Flins is fixated on collecting old gems and ancient coins, and that he makes sure to keep them in their "original casings," even when he notes that some of those casings are crumbling away and too fragile to even be touched. It's because the housing--the history of the objects from start to finish--means something to him. Their forms, both exactly as he remembers them from centuries ago and what they have now become is what actually matters.

Like those dead currencies still in their faltering, ancient casings, Flins is also a relic of a past to which he can never return. He is, in essence, no different from the ancient gems he collects: Having survived and circulated long past their origin and the context in which they had true worth, both he and the gems he collects have become secondhand detritus, "worthless" baubles whose long histories no longer matter to the new world they have found themselves in.

(It's not a mistake that he's functionally an object himself--the lantern that Flins truly "lives in" is as much an ancient treasure as any of the ones he's collecting and keeping in a safe little box.)

When Flins talks about ending his own tale, when the game draws the division between "Kyryll" and "Flins," the division isn't there because Flins' happily chose one day to move on. The division between "the noble's" story and Flins's story actually happened long before Flins's decision to "go to sleep" forever--"Kyryll" was already disappearing by the time the old world he once knew collapsed, with the image of his "flame going out" being linked directly with that of the old regime.

Flins is alive but he might as well be a ghost.

He's effectively a lingering spirit, unable to pass on--an artifact out of its proper time and context. He's a tarnished relic of a bygone age that found itself accidentally surviving into a future it has no connection with.

He's an outsider looking in.

He exists in the human world, but he isn't living in it. (This is how he describes the fae race as a whole by the way--according to Flins they are "unimportant" but they still just "exist.")

By the way, this is a common issue among Genshin's long-life species. Just as Rex Lapis had to die so that "Zhongli" could join the mortal world, and Cloud Retainer had to be coaxed down from Mount Aocang to experience human life in Liyue Harbor--just as Neuvillette was too trapped in the past to recognize how much Fontaine's feelings about the Melusines had changed, the common refrain is that Teyvat has become a world of mortals, moving at the mortals' pace, often leaving its immortal beings, who are much slower to change, behind.

The long and short of it is that Flins understands humanity and human emotions perfectly well, but he still isn't part of their world.

And I would argue that's because he doesn't want to be.

Over and over again, Flins's stories describe his actions as "self-imposed exile":

Flins is intelligent, empathetic, emotionally aware, and perfectly capable of becoming attached to humans. Yet he goes through life in Nod-Krai as if he's barely even there, holding himself entirely aloof, trying to avoid visitors, staying on the most remote island, not working with any Lightkeeper partners unless he has to...

This exile is a voluntary one. It is, quite literally, "self-imposed."

In fact, it's this exact thing Nefer scolds him for at the end of Luna I, pointing out that Flins's troubles throughout the patch are essentially his own fault because he chooses to remain isolated from others:

Flins's exile from Nod-Krai's mortal world isn't because humans can't tolerate him or because he's incapable of living among humans. In fact, most of the humans who meet him clearly come to like and appreciate him, with many, including the Traveler, finding him to be gracious and amusing company.

But Flins claims that he prefers isolation. Flins claims that he would rather have ghosts for company than living beings. Flins refuses to learn how to do new things, like work the modern kuuvahki powered lights. Flins rejects the idea of spending more time in Nasha Town. Flins avoids telling others the truth about himself and his past.

He claims he's happier this way.

The Voices™ haunting him don't really seem to agree though:

The distance between Flins and the human world isn't just because he's fae--in fact, it may have little to do with being fae at all. It seems likely (though time will tell), that Flins's separation from humanity has much more to do with the fact that he is holding himself remote from the human world on purpose--in part because he feels he doesn't belong in this world anymore, that he's a superfluous, "long lost" leftover from a forgotten golden age--and in part because the idea of connecting with the human world again is clearly painful.

Loving humanity, laboring for humanity, and then watching it all fall apart obviously taught him loss, a loss so consuming that it left him entirely without an "anchor," adrift in an existence with no sense of purpose--Flins himself describes his life after what happened in Snezhnaya as both "meaningless" and "monotonous."

The loss of that "anchor" and purpose in his life was so intense that Flins ultimately attempted to escape from it entirely by "going to sleep" forever--an attempt at finding "eternal serenity" (in oblivion) that obviously failed.

Now, risen from that failed attempt at finding peace, Flins is stuck between two painful choices: If he ties his heart to the human world again, he'll only be burned once more--the loss of one Lightkeeper comrade after another just grinds the salt into the open wound afresh. But can he really turn away from the humans that he clearly loves so dearly? Can he ignore their cries for aid, their hopes and prayers for a ray of light to guide them out of the darkness of despair? Is there any point to his continuing existence in the world if he has no purpose for being there? If he's just some pretty stone (some old polished lantern) that no longer ever shines?

Thus, Flins is trapped on a precarious tightrope, unable to separate himself entirely from the mortal realm, unable to turn a blind eye to human suffering, but unwilling to commit to reconnecting fully, obviously hesitant to open his heart to such fragile creatures ever again.

Although I'm sure more will be revealed with time and we still have a very limited amount of information on his background, I think for those looking for ways to characterize Flins, this is the aspect I find most compelling about his character:

Flins is the architect of his own isolation, and his lack of connection to humans is not from a lack of emotion or an inability to understand how humans think or feel. He could blend in with mortals without an issue if he chose to. He can understand and feel human emotion just as easily as humans can.

But it's because he is a feeling, loving creature who understands the human heart that he can't bear to fully join the human world again.

It's because he once loved the mortal world so dearly--loved it and felt the pain of losing something in it--that he can't bear to "turn his heart to humanity" once more.

Flins's tale isn't the story of a monster cleverly hiding among humans he doesn't truly understand.

The little glimpses Jack and Robby kept catching of Dennis truly in subspace were tantalizing. There was a softness to him that contradicted the hardy farmboy they’ve come to know that only truly came out when he seemed at his deepest.

Jack kept a list in his head of things he knew about Dennis;

He didn’t go down often enough

He clearly had some shit doms in the past

He responded beautifully to positive enforcement

Watching Dennis flourish under them has been a reward all on its own, watching as the eyebags slowly faded and his frame filled out more from ‘dehydrated gym-rat’ to ‘Stocky farmhand that should be on the cover of a softcore porn paperback.’ (He was still working on that one.)

Jack was thrilled when Dennis got switched to night shifts- just for a week, but enough time to observe his boy-

The boy.

Dennis.

He understood why Robby was so drawn to him. He kept his head, he could anticipate what he needed before Jack even spoke the words outloud, he leaned into Jack’s orders like a sunflower to the sun. That kind of devotion is intoxicating, it made him itch to have Dennis fall apart in his hands so he could see the little intricacies and put him back together.

The next opportunity to build Dennis from the ground up also came during the nightshift with an impatient man in chairs.

Dennis had been assisting moving a patient into a wheelchair whose abdominal pain was too strong for her to move. Getting her hunched over form into the wheelchair and quickly moving her back, she was being helped within a couple minutes of being admitted to the chagrin of a man with a nail through his forearm.

“Sir, I understand that this is painful and I promise we are doing our best to get to all of our patients in a timely manner.”

“You just brought back a patient who had a fucking stomach ache! I have a nail from a nail gun in my fucking arm!” The man seethed, holding up his forearm wrapped in a rag spotted with blood that made Dennis wince in sympathy.

“Oh, well, that patient was showing signs of appendicitis and you aren’t actively bleeding from something important, so maybe be glad your organs aren’t about to explode.”

“And we will get to you as soon as a room opens up, sir. There’s water in the chairs section, if you sit down we’ll come get you as soon as we’re able to.” Dennis insisted, turning quickly to walk back towards the nurse’s station to escape the man.

“Listen, pal-”

Dennis saw it on Jack’s face before he felt the heavy hand clamp on the back of his neck. The way his eyes locked on the person behind him, the tingle on the nape of his neck that warned that someone was too close.

He swore he smelled his dad’s cologne. He swore he felt the scrape of working hands on his soft skin and he was eleven again.

His legs felt weak- he could hear the man yelling in Dennis’s ear as Jack barked something to security, but Dennis’s hearing was muffled by the thunder of his pulse. The collision of his knees hitting the linoleum tiles traveled up his body in aftershocks, and thankfully it knocked the man’s grip on his neck loose.

“-know! I didn’t know he was a fucking kneeler, Jesus Christ!” Hands were under Dennis’s armpits, hauling him up on weak feet and helping him stumble over to the nurse’s station where he could sit down.

“Are you okay- sorry, fuck, dumb question. What hurts?” Dr. Shen walked behind him, Dennis heard the click of a penlight as he looked over the red skin that was starting to bruise.

“Um…. uh, sorry, neck pain and knee pain. I’m fine, I just need a second.” Dennis insisted.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Take 5, grab something from the vending machine. The guy ran off before we could get security on him.” Dennis nodded and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“It’s fine, it wouldn’t have done anything anyway.” Fuck, it was the last hour of the shift. He couldn’t have waited to throw a tantrum until after Dennis had left? He didn’t end up taking five- he was still working at an ER, Lord knows it didn’t wait for you to recover before throwing something at you. But he was out of it and he knew it.

The way his head seemed intent on floating away from his body, the anxiety rolling in his gut, the shaking hands and flightiness he fought to keep down. He was heading straight to a drop at this rate and he knew it. And the solution was working across from him, elbows deep in someone’s chest cavity.

The handoff came and went- Robby giving Jack a sweet, hidden peck and Dennis a squeeze on the shoulder.

“Heard you had a rough last hour. You alright?” Robby asked, keeping his hand on Dennis’s shoulder. Like he didn’t even know it was the thing keeping Dennis from shaking apart at the seams. Dennis just wanted to curl up in his arms like one of the barn cats, small enough to fit in his pocket and nestle close over his heart.

“...I just had a combative patient. Grabbed the back of my neck.” Dennis kept his answer clipped, shrugging with the shoulder Robby wasn’t holding. “No skin broken, just sore knees.”

“Christ, what is wrong with some people- and your head’s all good?” Robby asked, slipping into doctor mode as he looked into Dennis’s eyes for blown out pupils.

“Yup.” Dennis popped the ‘p’, imitating casualness. “I’m going to crash and watch awful tv at home.” Being alone was the last thing he really wanted. But Trinity was still working the day shift with Robby. It wasn’t the worst thing he’d weathered, but knowing that Jack’s help was right there for him to ask for made it ten times worse.

His body made the choice before he did. He stopped next to him in the locker room, trying to figure out what he wanted to say.

“Dennis?” If Dennis was looking up at all, trying to make eye contact with Jack, he would see the concern written across his face. But his childhood training was rearing its ugly head- keep your head bowed, show deference to your dom- and the thought of looking into Jack’s eyes made his eyes sting with tears.

“I’m- can I go home with you?” Dennis choked out, tangling his fingers in the hem of his shirt before shame drowned out whatever need for comfort possessed him to walk up to Jack and ask him to take him home. “Nevermind, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” But as he took a step back to walk out, he watched Jack’s hand reach out to curl a finger around the strap of his bag.

“Alright, come here.” Jack murmured, pulling Dennis in gently and into the fold of his arms.

Dennis pressed his face into Jack’s chest, clinging to him like a child. Each lungful of Jack’s scent soothed that frazzled animal under Dennis’s skin.

“I still- I feel his hand on my neck still.” The words were muffled by the soft cotton of Jack’s shirt, but the man must have heard him. Even as Jack slowly telegraphed his movements, Dennis flinched a little at feeling Jack’s hand brush over the purpling marks. “I tried to calm down, I did, I swear, I wouldn’t bother you if I could fix it.”

“Okay, okay. You did a good job letting me know, kid, I’m proud of you. That’s a hard thing to do.” Jack took a deep breath and sighed, letting Dennis hear the ‘woosh’ of it through his lungs. “Okay. You’re coming over. We’re going to reheat some leftovers and get you settled, alright?”

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Driving back to their house felt like deja vu.

But this time he knew where they kept the towels. This time Jack pulled out the same mug Dennis always grabbed, the one with a picture of the Statue of Liberty from Jack and Robby’s NYC trip. This time Dennis knew where his cushion was, stacked in the corner next to Robby’s folding garden kneeler.

The routine eased him from his freefall to a float. Showering off the stench of the ER, soaping himself up in Jack’s Irish Spring bodywash and pulling on sweats that made him tie the drawstring the most it would go. Jack had the news on the TV when Dennis came down, his prosthetic propped up against the couch and digging his fork into leftover lasagna.

“Not as good the second time getting heat up, but it’s edible.” Jack joked, waiting for Dennis to sit next to him on the couch before handing him a bowl. Dennis let his mind wander while he ate, watching the news passively as Jack cracked jokes and comments. Letting it all wash over him, letting his body relax and unclenching his jaw.

Jack let out a soft swear at the newest story that scrolled over the screen, bringing Dennis’s attention back to the tv.

“-son was a father of three, working out in rural Pennsylvania. Police were notified of distressing sounds from a neighbor who had come by to drop off some homemade baked goods. When police went to the scene, they found two of the children kneeling on thumbtacks in the corner of the room. When questioned, Jameson insisted that it was ‘good for a submissive’s growth.’ Jameson would soon be arrested under charges of child abuse, submissive abuse and neglect.”

The spokeswoman was calm and clinical as she read out the story, her shiny white teeth and perfect hair at odds with the photos of blood-stained wood floors and mugshots.

“Bunch of sick fucks. Who the hell does that to a kid?” Jack grumbled, setting down his now-empty bowl on the side table.

“Mm, you’d be surprised.” Dennis replied absentmindedly, scraping his bowl for the last little bits of ground beef in the bowl. “A lot of rural communities do that stuff. ‘Specially bible belt area.”

Jack nodded slowly, still not looking at Dennis as he held up his remote and lowered the volume on the tv. “Is kneeling on thumbtacks bringing back fond memories?” Dennis snorted at the question.

“No, I got off easy with the area I was in. Just like… I dunno. Normal stuff. Kneeling on rice, belts,scruffing, corner time, um…hah, my dad used to lock me in the basement.” Dennis chuckled lightly, not catching the look on Jack’s face. “Honestly it was when I went over to a friend’s house that I realized how good I had it.”

“...scruffing?” Jack asked carefully. Dennis looked up, blinking at him in confusion.

“Uh, yeah? Like what the combative patient in chairs did today. C’mon, you know it, does it have a different name up here?”

“Mm, humor me. Maybe it’ll ring a bell.” Jack insisted quietly. Having Jack’s full attention on him felt daunting. He was quick to look down at some lint on the sweatpants and pick at it.

“Like when you grab a sub by the back of their neck? Right here?” Dennis gestured to his neck, hovering his fingers over the sore skin of his nape. “Makes them all wobbly? We called it scruffing, it was just… if you were running around in church, someone would just grab you and march you over to your parents. That kind of thing.” Dennis watched Jack’s face, carefully composed into something neutral and understanding. “Did your parents ever do that? My dad would do it to my mom sometimes- that was bad, but for kids it was just like spanking.”

“...considering it was considered abuse where I was from, no.” Jack answered, watching Dennis’s brow furrow.

“...oh.” Dennis answered flatly. They sat in near silence, save for the news, until Dennis grabbed his bowl and Jack’s and made his way to the kitchen. He washed the bowls longer than two bowls would take to wash, but it gave him space away from Jack’s knowing look- the one that made him want to spill his guts. When he sat back down, he was quiet for a little while before speaking up again.

“I wasn’t abused.” His father’s words tasted bad in Dennis’s mouth,dripping out of his lips like dip spit and blood.

“Okay.” Jack answered softly.

“My dad worked really hard to raise us and run a farm.” Dennis insisted. He didn’t know what he was trying to prove. He didn’t know what he was arguing against.

“Grab your pillow and come here.” Jack asked, pointing next to his intact leg. Dennis blinked at the gentle command but perked up eagerly as his brain processed what was said. He would take any excuse to derail this conversation.

He took a flat foam cushion and set it next to Jack, setting one knee down before wincing at the pulse of dull ache that throbbed up his leg.

“You can sit with your legs folded to the side tonight. There you go.” Jack waited for Dennis to settle before speaking again. “You don’t need to suffer to be cared for, Dennis. Do you know that?”

Logically, yes. Dennis nodded.

“I need words, mouse.”

“Yessir.”

“Good.”

And Jack left it at that. He turned the volume of the tv back up, keeping a hand on Dennis’s hair and petting his nape and ears gently. He didn’t go down- still too wired from talking about his childhood- but he let himself doze and fade into the feeling of Jack’s leg keeping him upright.

Jack would watch over him. He would keep Dennis safe.

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