[ burn, oh how well he'd like to see the rippling waves of flame consume the heart and flesh and every man in this place if it meant he could return to her side, watching Lacie from afar. He would be content.

But he was hardly so now with Oswald's gentle pull on his soul stretching out and stealing his senses, numbing them, coaxing them. ]

I never thought of sickness, one way or the other. Is it really such a terrible thing?

Ah! Unless you'd like me to take care of you when you're ill. I'd be honored.

[ He could coddle the Baskerville king, tuck him in to his bed and feed him his soup. His mistresses had enjoyed those moments, going so far as to feign illness for the gentle touch, the moments alone. And Jack had feigned illness to steal their interest. Healthy or ill, he did his job well. Liking had never mattered. ]