Opium's head canted to the side and dark eyes traced the shape of his companion's features, carefully searching his shadowed expression. "And how do you feel about this change?" he asked. "Would you like it gone?" Opium would be the first to admit that sometimes change was necessary - but other times, like the shifting of seasons, made his old bones ache.
His hand slipped to the back of Tracer's neck and drew him in closer, warmth coming off Opium like a thick, heavy smoke enveloping both of them. He wanted to draw him in and make it better.