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Summary
“I was complimenting you, George,” Lockwood chuckled, an unfamiliar grin on his face - too sharp, too biting.
George knew what Lockwood’s compliments felt like. He gave them freely enough, and they always filled George’s chest with a sort of fluttering pride. This felt…different. Like back when he was still in school, and he would spot the other boys across the yard, laughing with each other, their glances cutting over to him. He knew he was the butt of the joke, even if he didn’t understand why.
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Lockwood comes home from a job, and something is wrong.