by @/jujudisegnacose (they drew it for me for being their first p4treon supporter 💞)

and busies himself measuring it, then pouring it into the compartment for it in the now-warming kettle.

"But if you believe you can be responsible, then by all means. A bit of life in your own quarters may do you some good."

a rare fondness in his gaze. "But they require patience. Care. Attention. Qualities I am not sure you possess in abundance."

Despite the dry remark, there is no real bite to his tone.

He moves toward the buffet to retrieve a tin of coffee, —

the stove. The flames crackle beneath it, heat already beginning to build. Viktor adjusts it with a small iron poker before setting it aside.

"You say that," Viktor continues, brushing his hands together as if to rid them of invisible dust, casting a glance toward his own collection of plants, —

Viktor exhales a quiet scoff from the bathroom, the sound barely audible over the running water. "A couple of plants?" he echoes, voice laced with skepticism. "Somehow, I doubt you would keep them alive for long."

He turns off the tap, carrying the filled kettle back into the room to set it atop —

the latter, [ please ] do not touch the plants—or anything else, for that matter."

With that, he sets a small fire alight. Once the flames catch, he takes the kettle and disappears briefly to the bathroom to fill it. The soft sound of running water echoes through the otherwise quiet space.

to Jayce.

"Come. We will be more comfortable in my quarters while I make that coffee."

Once there, Viktor makes a beeline to the wood stove.

"You may sit at the table. Or on the ottoman, if you prefer." He pauses just long enough to glance back at Jayce, his tone firm. "But if you choose —

doesn't say anything about it, simply pulling off his gloves. "Reading alone is not enough," he replies idly, turning toward the worktable. "A mind like yours requires more than passive knowledge. It requires [ challenge. ]" He opens the bag of biscuits and takes one for himself before handing it —

Viktor watches, just for a moment, as Jayce leans into his touch. The way he stills beneath his palm, like a starved animal catching the scent of food, is telling. [ 𝘛𝘰𝘰 ] 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨. He makes a note of it—filed away in the back of his mind alongside other observations. It could be useful.

But he —

nor an offer laced with concern; simply a practical observation. Jayce needs fuel if he’s going to be of any real use, and Viktor would rather not deal with him passing out halfway through their work.

the excess thread and leans back slightly, surveying his work. Satisfied, he nods. "There. Now, you ought to eat something before we begin." He gestures vaguely toward the worktable. "There is a bag of biscuits. I can make tea, or coffee, if you want."

It is not a question, —

back and forth." A slight pause. "Not to mention, it will be good for your brain. Keep it in shape. Like a muscle, it must be exercised—assuming it is still functioning properly." A smirk, barely there, but present. “I would hate for yours to wither away."

With the last stitch in place, he clips —

well," he comments as he ties off the first stitch, his eyes flicking up briefly. "And no, I don’t mind you assisting. In fact, I considered asking you to."

He works on the next stitch as he continues: "Two minds are better than one, & it would be far more efficient than having people carry notes —

Viktor doesn’t immediately reply, instead focused on cleaning the small wounds. He presses a hand against Jayce’s cheek to keep him stable, tilting his head slightly for better access before starting the first stitch, pulling the needle through flesh with as little discomfort as possible. "You did —