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    Summary

    Owen soured, thinking of how the Doctor looked at Louis.

    Everyone looked at Louis, of course. He was a man to be looked at— but. The Doctor looked at Louis and smiled. Not in the vapid way Louis' townspeople once did, not in the way of someone who just wanted to fuck the beautiful mayor who remained unmarried.

    Legundo would look at Louis with exasperation, when he refused to eat from an animal who's fur was dirty. He would roll his eyes when Louis matched his socks to his handkerchief, despite the fact that he only had two pairs. He would look contemplative, thoughtful, worried in turn at their conversations, which had become to grow deeper, more comfortable as time passed.

    But sometimes, he would look at Louis also with softness, and that would make Owen more incandescent with rage than all the other looks.

    'Let him wake,' Owen thought, raising his leg and rolling Louis back onto his thigh, drawing a gasp from him. 'So he can see what he can not have.'

    Series
    Language:
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