#(maybe)

He hadn't meant to hold onto it, but the card stuck out like a sore thumb on the wet pavement. He should've just acknowledged it and simply continued on his way to the address Nigel had written on the note left for him that evening, but for some strange reason, the sight of the discarded, grime-covered Jack of Spades pulled at him. In a way, it felt like his hand had been puppeted.

The red strings only continued to meddle in their lives.

"Where'd you find it?" Nigel's voice grew more eager, and Alex could swear that, despite the ice in his eyes, his stare was abnormally heated tonight against his clothed shoulder. He briefly bit into the inside of his cheek.

"Outside. On my way here," Alex reluctantly answered.

Everything seemed to suddenly go silent, except for, maybe, their breathing, and Alex felt his head betrayingly turn over by impulse.

It was strange, seeing those cool eyes visibly brighten. It unsettled Alex, that must've been it—he internally reasoned—for why he felt a strange shudder run throughout his body at the sight of those eyes glued onto him. It wasn't a new look—but when was the last time he'd seen it?

("It's Luther," Nigel corrected.

"What?" Alex's eyebrows furrowed at the sudden firmness to the other's voice. He glanced back down again at the large dog curled up by Nigel's side, it's head tucked between his gentle caressing hand and his thigh.

"His name is Luther. You keep referring to him as 'the dog', so I'm letting you know—you can call him by his name." He replied, and Alex scoffed.

Nigel spoke with an underlying level of offense, as if he were insistent on Alex referring to the dog by it's correct name. Almost like an indignant mother wanting her child properly addressed.

The mental image that came into Alex's mind was overtly ridiculous.

Yet, there was this twinkle in Nigel's eyes whenever they'd drift back down onto the resting canine. Something that could be motherly, overly fond of her sweet child... it made Alex's mouth go dry, and he gulped.

"Fine, whatever," he begrudgingly relented and immediately winced at the strain in his voice. "I'll call him Luther—happy now?"

All he got was a pleased hum in response.)

And again, that twinkle was back, but aimed directly at him.

Caused by him.

And that had Alex's brain struggling to catch up.

"See," Nigel's voice grew awed as his smug smile softened into something almost sweet, "I told you, Jack. These clues—they are everywhere. They're meant to lead you back to your destiny. Our destiny."

He was leaning, closer than ever, into Alex's personal space. And he wanted to correct Nigel again, to snap him back into reality, but the sour words seemed to melt away the moment he opened his mouth.

"I guess you're right."

Surely, an Alex from the past and the future were both screaming at him simultaneously for his stupidity. The hell was he doing further fueling this guy's insanity? You're deluded—he'd tell him later, but who's fault was that?

Still, there was just something about being the one to get that dreamy effect out of Nigel's voice, to hear his words grow more and more crazed and see his eyes dart erratically around—to be the core reason behind Nigel's endless spiral. It was truly an invigorating feeling; a possessive claim of his own over the mind of the other.

Nigel got into his head and made himself at home, and Alex was going to do the same back.