Work Text:
In the dark of the cave, Polites was the sun. He always shone, of course; the gleam in his eyes and the flash of his smile always catching Odysseus unaware no matter how long he spent staring, but here, surrounded by shadows, it was extraordinary. The way his wavy hair caught the flickers of light that entered the cave, the way the gilded frames of his glasses stood out among the men, the way his shining sword trembled in his hands—it was a distraction. Odysseus needed to focus, to plan, but he couldn't tear his eyes from his sun.