Rhys walked through the long, quiet hallways, the white tube in his pocket feeling heavy and foreign. He could still feel the phantom sensation of Corvin's hand on his wrist, the subtle, taunting pressure that had made his pulse race.
He couldn't tell exactly what the doctor was doing, and he hated that he couldn't read his mind.
The few minutes in the infirmary felt like forever, he couldn't tell what was wrong, but he felt the shift in the atmosphere.
Corvin was a master at pushing his buttons, and Rhys, for all his discipline, couldn't seem to resist.
His mind went Kael, recalling the intense gaze he'd felt as he saw him staring. He was sure that Corvin must have diffused something into the air to toy with their brains, he wouldn't put it past him.
