[ Byerly is, for once, utterly bereft of words. He stares at Dorian, his eyes gone wide, his face gone pale. He shouldn't be horrified, he knows. Men have been murdered in the past for being homosexual. But there's something worse about this...maybe because he knows Dorian, or maybe because of what a violation it is. Not to kill, not to destroy, but to alter. To make...different. It seems a crueler trespass than mere death.
In the end, he just grips Dorian's forearm. Tightly, comfortingly - or perhaps trying to brace himself. Who knows? And, finally, he manages: ]
I hope you never said another word to the son-of-a-bitch.
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In the end, he just grips Dorian's forearm. Tightly, comfortingly - or perhaps trying to brace himself. Who knows? And, finally, he manages: ]
I hope you never said another word to the son-of-a-bitch.