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Summary
Childe seems to sense that Dottore is easing into the idea, and his eyes spark with excitement. It's no different than how they spark at rising conflict, the prospect of slaughter; he's uncovered a challenge somewhere along the way, and like all others, he intends to seize it in earnest.
"You're a scholar, aren't you?" Childe asks playfully, leaning in a little closer to his face. "How does your type confirm or deny your theories? A bit of trial and error, isn't it? Maybe you just need to start your trials here."
Perhaps Dottore has simply trudged blindly into whatever trap Childe has set for him. But maybe, in this particular instance, Childe doesn't even know well enough to set such a trap. Maybe it's just a perfect opportunity to tap at the door of some forbidden knowledge Dottore had been barred from his entire life.
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Bookmark Notes:
(sobbing grossly and with all the affection in my heart) these two are FUCKING weird
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Bookmark Notes:
Running experiments on the meaning of love in the name of knowledge
Oh how I love this fic <3
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