he was wild in his youth

me: *dumps a bit of laudanum in my tea*

my faithful butler: sir

me: *pours the whole bottle of laudanum in my tea*

In the early hours of the morning, while the rest of the world sleeps and dawn is still far in the distance, Lucy Harris lays awake beside Edward Hyde, who dozes peacefully. She smiles. Like this, it’s easy to see him as his old self, the kinder persona who first greeted her those weeks ago in the Rat, and she reaches out to brush loose hair from his face. 

He stirs, turning this way and that, before those piercing eyes open, causing her to pull her hand back and stiffen. Gentleman prefer their sleep, and disturbing them—whether to get water, or get food, or just get air, going out to stand under the stars and wonder at them—is a surefire way to earn a scolding, if not worse.

“I–I’m sorry,” she says, but there is fondness in his gaze that gives her the courage to ask, “I was just wonderin’—how do you do it? Change your face, I mean. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He sits up and averts his gaze and her heart thuds in her ears. 

“—I’ll show you”, Hyde finally says, pushing himself out of bed. “But it’s not something for the faint of heart.”