[ That soft bioluminescence suits Prior. He's a beautiful man even now, no doubt, but his illness has clearly robbed him of much. But in the bluish glow, the pallor is erased, the gauntness disguised - and the sweetness of his face, his delight over the little bug, truly replaces the usual desperate misery that lurks under his drawls and smiles. It's a cruel thing, an unhappy thing, watching Prior play cheerful for the crowds. By so much prefers this genuine warmth.

And it's that thought that keeps By from leaning forward and kissing him. The temptation is strong, and it feels right in that moment - the natural next step in this little dance. But Prior has so much self-loathing misery all tied up in that feeling of being undesirable. To bring in the question of desire, to make this less than chaste...It might give Prior pleasure, but it'd be just as likely to dredge up all sorts of ugliness. No. Too great a risk. He's a gambler, but he's not going to bet double or nothing with someone else's happiness.

Heaven help him. He wishes he could make it better. He wish he knew how to heal...anyone. Anything. But he can't. ]

Ah, to fly. The dream of all men everywhere. I think you'd look fetching with butterfly wings, Prior. [ By strokes down the side of his face. ] If only I could teach you how to kick free of the earth. That'd be a lesson worth learning.