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Summary
She would have been knocked out, the first time their skin brushed. Hoffman probably tossed her body onto the warehouse floor, but John would have been gentle, pulling her into the chair. Tying her wrists down. Placing the mechanism against her tongue.
She imagines the tips of his fingers brushing against the corners of her mouth.
After all, the first actual memory she has of his touch is him lifting her chin with his thumb to examine the rough, red scars. Tilting her head, gently. He looks at her for a solid minute, and she feels so exposed, so nervous under his gaze. Her shivers are anxious, uncertain ones. They’ll change.
Obsessed is just a word the unenlightened use for devoted. But it's not easy to care about someone far more than they care about you.
A short fic about Amanda, John, and attention.