Ryū | 🍽️

his lips are moving, and the words are filtering in — mellifluous despite the content that was being discussed, yet you hardly picked up on anything.

focusing felt more challenging as of late, with your curious eyes drifting from his masked gaze whenever he spoke to.. several other details found on his frame.

it started with his lips, as they were just below that crow-like beak shielding his nose, then the earring that danced with the long curl that fell over his countenance, down to clothing worth more than your paycheck, and as of late.. leather-clad fingers.

azure on the palms — the color of the ruffled dress shirt beneath his decorated white coat, and on the back of his hand, onyx — so that the bracers adorning his forearm had stood out better with its slightly lighter hue.

apart from writing, working and doing pretty much anything with his hands throughout his day to do, you’d noticed that he had a habit of speaking with them a lot, too. perhaps an unconscious thing, unless he was fully aware.

either way, it was.. distracting, and dottore did not fail to pick up on such details. you were his faithful assistant, after all. how could he not notice after hearing you hum in agreement to an open question of his more than once already?

anyone else might have gotten mad, probably fired you on the spot, or maybe have subjected you to becoming their next experiment — and if it weren’t you, the harbinger probably would have done something like that. but this was.. a curious little thing, something that he had wanted to explore.

nothing too formal, though he did keep logs hidden away from your view. personal notes that detailed your strange yet entertaining behaviors as of late. one of his most favorites was when his fingers had met your face to adjust the goggles you wore whenever you were tasked to assist after or during procedures.

it was such a simple little act — merely pushing them up to rest more comfortably after you had leaned over to pick something that he had dropped. whether on purpose or not, was a mystery, but either way — you had not delayed in plucking off of the frigid flooring for him.

and that was where he had committed that tiny act of kindness — meaningless to many, but did numbers to you in particular.

like a skittish little animal, you had stiffened, looking up at him with those widened eyes, perhaps as a doe might have — as plenty patients have with him.. but then he felt the slightest warmth radiating off of you, noting the way your lips had parted enough to be worth jotting in his notebook about, and the flutter of your lashes.

it was undeniable that his touch — moreover his hands, had done something to you. that impromptu test had proven it, and made way for his continued research on the matter.

he must have been scribbling something down on a random day, listing things to you or talking about something he was working on — the usual. and as dottore looked up at some point to face you, your eyes were pretty much zoomed in on his hand — moreover the pen between his skillful fingers.

it’d be gullible to say that they weren’t boring into them, practically. silly as it was to say, he almost wanted to theorize that you might very well have been jealous of the tool he was holding.

did you want to be between his fingers next, or something? a pen had no consciousness to transfer your mind into. perhaps a tiny animal might do instead, like a mouse — or reducing your size to fit as a doll might. but no, that was.. definitely too much work, intriguing as it was to see how you might react.

the basic stuff would have to do.. for now.

and so he continued his ministrations — letting his fingers linger at times on your shoulders, or on your hands if any papers and items were being exchanged. interactions that took place between you both regardless of this newfound research he was doing, with just a few seconds longer of contact — or an occasional squeeze.

small things, really, but the impact was there.

still, the doctor had made no move to confront you.

he didn’t have to, though, because you would.

all on your own.

“do you think you can manage that, my dear?” dottore finished, gently touching your fingers with his, which had tensed almost immediately upon contact.

exactly as they would whenever they would brush or linger a little longer than they should.

your lashes fluttered once and then twice, eyes lowering to his hand on yours before you realized that you’d retained.. pretty much nothing of what he had told you to do.

and he was waiting for an answer.

“if i can manage?” you mirrored, silently mourning the loss of his cold touch on yours, as his hand pulled away to gesture while he spoke.

a habit you had paid a great deal of attention to, and he knew that well.

“indeed.” he smiled, tucking one hand behind his back as he stood up, circling your seated form. “i expect that you’ll do everything i listed off now, dear assistant. unless of course,” the doctor spared you a glance, smiling sweetly. “you were not paying attention to what i was saying previously..”

and as if to drive the final nail in, leather brushed your shoulder — gentle in comparison to the raging blizzard beyond the laboratory.

but it made the hairs littering your skin stand on edge, as though supercharged by some type of energy possibly found even in this lab of his. so much so that you were rising from your place not a second after, already lowering your head in apology.

“forgive me, doctor — i did not mean to space out while you were speaking.. it’s just that,” a pause — a breath, and the averting of your gaze. “my mind was.. elsewhere. not entirely distant from here, but..”

it felt humiliating to articulate the truth behind your lack of attention span as of late. how could you bring yourself to confess that his hands had kept you from working diligently? he’d have you fired for it, punished maybe- or would burst out laughing for such insolence.

and yet, “but?” he prompted, slipping a hand beneath your chin to redirect your stare to meet his own — masked as it was. “you have quite a way with words, do finish your explanation, assisant.”

tensing as an animal would when they know they’re about to be hunted and made into one’s dinner, you blinked once and then twice, unable to tear your eyes away — no thanks to your chin being held captive between his deft fingers. dottore had you exactly where he wanted you to be, and there was nothing you could do to evade the inevitable truth.

there was no hiding it anymore.

“your hands, doctor..”

a smile, and then a soft hum. “what of them, my dear?”

archons, of course he was going to play stupid and force you to tell him verbatim — it was just so like him.

but what could you do? lie? withhold the information he demanded?

not if you wanted to go on working for him.

“they’re.. distracting. incredibly so,” you finally answered, fiddling with the fabric of your coat. “i really do try to pay attention when you tell me things — and most of the time, i never miss a word.. but whenever my gaze drifts to your hands- everything just..” a breath, the flutter of lashes. “drowns out..”

a beat passed, followed by a second, and then his hand shifted to cradle your cheek, lips curling beneath the beak shielding his nose. “do they truly have such an effect?” he mused out, tracing light circles with his thumb on your skin. “how very interesting. i suppose a reiteration is in order, and perhaps some conditioning.” the harbinger added, tilting his head as he leaned into your space just enough to have your breath hitching.

“after all, i cannot have my most loyal and diligent assistant getting so easily distracted, much less by my hands of all parts, now can i?”

notes. my take on dottore’s gloves — sfw edition. dawg i would not be locked in at all if those hands were in my vicinity; FORGET IT. nothing would get done, i would forget everything, honestly.

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