[He knows, he knows. There is a part of him, an unavoidable part, that can't avoid the memory of hands around his neck, the claws, the sneer in his voice as he stabbed him. There's an ugly bruise around his neck; he's had it covered with a scarf and his coat, but it may peek out from time to time.
But he doesn't want to let this place take something very nice away from him. He's stubbornly pushing the memories aside. It's a little easier to do with this than it was to push aside his own fears and self-loathing, anyway.]
[ He used to be better about being able to quiet any possible regrets, about being able to shut down memories or thoughts about things he didn't want to think about or deal with. But that ugly bruise, the marks across his own face - light as they are now - are a few of the things emblematic of the exact problem he's been twisting over. Once you wake up from the dream, waking life is so much more complicated.
At least he'd already agree with Caleb on one thing, that he likes him more than he probably should. This is a consequence of that. It's a messy, terrible idea. He wants it anyway.]
[He pulls away from the kiss, not exactly in a mood to makeout so much as just wanting a little closeness. Runs his hand across the marks on his cheek. Those may be a reminder, but to him, they're a reminder of Mollymauk, not of Lucien. How hard Molly has always fought for them, against all of the odds.]
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But he doesn't want to let this place take something very nice away from him. He's stubbornly pushing the memories aside. It's a little easier to do with this than it was to push aside his own fears and self-loathing, anyway.]
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At least he'd already agree with Caleb on one thing, that he likes him more than he probably should. This is a consequence of that. It's a messy, terrible idea. He wants it anyway.]
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