#fearandcontrol

Poor Jon, really. He’s looking for one response and getting another -- although they’re entirely too easy to misconstrue. Both cause dilation of the pupils, a rise in adrenaline, elevated heart and breathing rates. Maybe even a little perspiration. The hand on the small of his back, though, sends an icy wave rattling up and then back down his spine.

GULP.

“ --- Jonathan, I think you’re missing the mark a little --”

Jonathan, for an aromantic, you certainly do love to push Edward’s buttons. Never mind his sensory sensitivity – ears are a universally erogenous zone. And who uses a person's name at the end of a sentence like that unless they’re trying painfully hard to illicit a very specific response. Given context, at least.

But, Ed knows better when it comes to the tall, old doctor. He’s toying with him. As usual. So, with a mighty flinch and a quick swat, the poor ginger makes a half-assed attempt at dispelling his tormentor.

“ — Can I trust you?”

continued from x. 

“Perhaps,” Jonathan said, still intent on his work. “Don’t tell Ms. Kyle, though.”

He slid the last needle into the nerve of the amygdala laid out before him, wiping his hands off on his pant leg before pushing himself away from his desk and turning to face her.

“And miss seeing you with half a face clawed off? Though that would be stealing Harvey’s schtick.”