[ there is something odd to all this — like the world has lurched one centimeter to the right, and nothing is quite where it should be, a sense of something intrinsic being wrong... and viktor can't put his finger on the exact thing. it is the desperation with which jayce clutches onto him, it is the wild look in his eyes for a fraction of a second as he apologises, it is the way he looks at viktor like he's never seen him before —

it's wrong, wrong, wrong, because jayce shouldn't be like this. jayce shouldn't look at viktor and his body that is, here, preserved in a suspended state of mere days from expiring entirely, and think it's good —

because what is the alternative? if this, him as he is, makes his partner look almost elated, then... dread coils itself around his mind, digs tiny hooks into him, and he grips his crutch tighter, looks down, ostensibly at the shattered remains of his coffee cup.

he closes his eyes. when he opens them again, it is to fix jayce with a look, and with a nod of his head towards the table he leapt over a few minutes ago, ]

Take your things. I'm not having this conversation with you here. We'll go to the lab. It's a bit of a walk, but... [ he makes a face that seems to indicate "it is what it is" and "better not to be in the city center anyway", accompanied with half a shrug, what with jayce's hands still on his shoulders.

(and no, he's not addressing the whole "you look good" thing, at all. it's as if jayce hadn't even said anything — ) ]