#wolfkiler

⠀ danger gleams in monsieur de lioncourt's gaze—or perhaps it is simply his natural charm; to john, they are one and the same. a morbid notion, perhaps, but not an unfounded one—he resists the urge to touch the fragile skin just beneath his eye. the injury has long since healed, but he still feels the hot throb of blood and the stretch of swollen flesh, the gentle sweep of percy beauchamp's fingers over inflamed skin.

⠀john has been ... untethered, since then, he knows. he had thought that france might bring him some stability—that putting an ocean between him and his troubles might serve to mitigate them, or at least provide a little clarity. that he might stop fingering his wounds and allow them to heal.

⠀ but pain turns john reckless, despite his better sense—it always has.

⠀ scattered around them, the last of the guests chatter languidly, spilled into chairs and chaises throughout the room. john clasps his hands behind his back and leans forward with a closed-mouthed smile, ducking his chin in acknowledgment of monsieur de lioncourt's promise—or his threat.

⠀ "an honor indeed," he says without breaking monsieur de lioncourt's gaze. it is no great trouble—he is a handsome man, and john's attention lingers freely. his smile curls into a more playful form, and he straightens, eyes glittering.

⠀ "i only regret that time is not fully on our side; i've been some time in france and must soon depart for the colonies, though i've not yet secured my passage."