Arthur says "The king" with the same vehemence that Crichton speaks about Scorpius.
He doesn't need the details now, that tone alone reeks of someone who's tortured Arthur. And it makes Crichton want to get his hands around the neck of whoever it was and squeeze until that crown slips off. Especially as he notes the reactions to his just coming closer. Who did this? Who the frell did this? Was it Kayne? Is that the name of the bastard that needs to die?
He doesn't say anything. He can't trust his voice not to be heated. But a small sob of his own leaks out when Arthur reaches out his horribly thin hand. Crichton takes it, gently as if he's scared he'll break Arthur's fragile fingers. He's here. He's here.
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He doesn't need the details now, that tone alone reeks of someone who's tortured Arthur. And it makes Crichton want to get his hands around the neck of whoever it was and squeeze until that crown slips off. Especially as he notes the reactions to his just coming closer. Who did this? Who the frell did this? Was it Kayne? Is that the name of the bastard that needs to die?
He doesn't say anything. He can't trust his voice not to be heated. But a small sob of his own leaks out when Arthur reaches out his horribly thin hand. Crichton takes it, gently as if he's scared he'll break Arthur's fragile fingers. He's here. He's here.