As he recognized potentials of meaning in the bruises and bites.
(The boy has been inflicted on.) (Enri may not have found it unwelcome.) (Enri is young.) (Scarlett is a fucking liability.) (And.)
This is what Scarlett does. Tames them. Trains them. Severs them loose and strangling.
Lets them think he's theirs. (Maybe. Does that connect? Morgan lacks the details toward solution.) Plays on inexperience and bare desire.
The boy doesn't know what he's doing.
And.
It isn't his fault. Maybe.
That is the point for focus. Never mind the further meanings Enri's 'he's mine' - precisely speaking, the 'mine' - bears. (Never mind the implied 'not mine's suggested.) (Never mind the edge of it that clenches Morgan's insides. That would grit his teeth, if his jaw wasn't already fixed.) Never mind that 'no.' The boy can speak refusal if he likes; he's here now. Away from that shitweasel now.
Looking at the door now. Thinking of bolting, most likely. Morgan will grab the boy if he must.
Morgan's fingers flex. His thumb shifts along his forefinger, slow. He stands fixed. And Morgan listens for Lydia, tunes his senses toward her. Tenses slightly, shifts his presence slightly, to indicate discomfort and his intention to try keeping steady. To try keeping the boy here without losing presence of mind again.
And Morgan speaks, voice now pitched at an accustomed tone and volume. There's little confrontation in his voice; little more than an expression of fact. "No.
"Scarlett isn't." Isn't Enri's. Isn't what the boy seems to believe. Isn't worthy of Enri's time or health or thought.
no subject
As he recognized potentials of meaning in the bruises and bites.
(The boy has been inflicted on.) (Enri may not have found it unwelcome.) (Enri is young.) (Scarlett is a fucking liability.) (And.)
This is what Scarlett does. Tames them. Trains them. Severs them loose and strangling.
Lets them think he's theirs. (Maybe. Does that connect? Morgan lacks the details toward solution.) Plays on inexperience and bare desire.
The boy doesn't know what he's doing.
And.
It isn't his fault. Maybe.
That is the point for focus. Never mind the further meanings Enri's 'he's mine' - precisely speaking, the 'mine' - bears. (Never mind the implied 'not mine's suggested.) (Never mind the edge of it that clenches Morgan's insides. That would grit his teeth, if his jaw wasn't already fixed.) Never mind that 'no.' The boy can speak refusal if he likes; he's here now. Away from that shitweasel now.
Looking at the door now. Thinking of bolting, most likely. Morgan will grab the boy if he must.
Morgan's fingers flex. His thumb shifts along his forefinger, slow. He stands fixed. And Morgan listens for Lydia, tunes his senses toward her. Tenses slightly, shifts his presence slightly, to indicate discomfort and his intention to try keeping steady. To try keeping the boy here without losing presence of mind again.
And Morgan speaks, voice now pitched at an accustomed tone and volume. There's little confrontation in his voice; little more than an expression of fact. "No.
"Scarlett isn't." Isn't Enri's. Isn't what the boy seems to believe. Isn't worthy of Enri's time or health or thought.
"It ends badly."