Dark hair heavy with water clung to skeletal cheekbones, and as the fog mirror cleared under the drag of a hand, Chase's brow rose to find a satisfied near smirk curving the lips reflected back at him as he reached for his toothbrush to begin the ritual of brushing and flossing, a ritual that would be repeated after each meal and once more prior to bed. A glance at the computer pad propped on the vanity cemented that smirk as the image of a nude, inked figure appeared from beneath a mound of blankets and quick-stepped it into the adjoining bath.
That the dynamics of the game had changed was a given, and Chase had spent many hours deep in thought, eyes focused on the tableau playing out beyond the thick wall of glass that separated physician from father and son. Leonard's inked skull shaped so like the stubbled head that bent, their fingers extended, the boy's smaller, the scars on his palms more livid than those offered for comparison. The smile that Leonard held for Chase had not wavered, but the machines never lied. The boy's vitals went off the charts when Cledwyn made his way into Leonard's glassed cage and given the stakes, Chase had been driven to measures which had confused and angered his staff and would no doubt tweak Cledwyn... a pity, but there was more than one avenue into the Three.
A tangle of floss discarded and a towel slung around his hips, Chase stepped out of the bath and knocked softly on the door to what had been transformed into Leonard's "room". No less secure, a cage still, but one gilded enough to leave the boy speechless and allow Chase to root himself more deeply in what passed for a heart, beating in the wondrous machine that genetics had created.
"Leonard, you awake?" That Chase knew, always knew whether Leonard was awake or sleeping, pacing or rocking, defecating or masturbating aside, that the question was asked further encouraged the boy's dependence, enforced the illusion that he had been moved into a safer place, one in which he had some degree of privacy and the muffled affirmation on the other side of the door, the door only Chase could open brought a smile. "I'll let you get dressed and order some breakfast. I'm dying for pancakes."
Leaving the subject to its ablutions, Chase dressed for the day and opened the doors leading to the wide terrace which had remained unused during his years in the apartments now shared with the subject that would cement Chase's place in the pantheon of genius. Redecorating had been in order, of course, but all of his equipment was housed within reach, accessed by a door hidden behind a bookshelf in his bedroom. All hidden from Leonard, who had touched nearly every object in the apartments sanitized and staged to appear as nothing short of a refuge, a sanctuary from the bright, chaotic madness of medicine.
Standing in the sunshine, Chase lifted his face to the heavens, waiting for the knock at the door which would allow them to break their fast. Yes, the game had changed, but Chase would not allow anyone to steal his victory. He was far too close to achieving his own immortality to allow one gifted by an accident of birth to slither in and gobble up his mouse.