Caspian 'Caz' Rosier (cazrosier) wrote in fromashesrpg, @ 2012-08-13 10:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | adrian pucey, caz rosier |
Who: Caz Rosier and Adrian Pucey.
When: August 10th, evening (backdated, I fail).
Where: Caz’s Potion Shop, Knockturn Alley.
What: Adrian reports for duty.
Rating: R for non-consensual sexual content and rude language.
When Adrian tried to remember what had happened on Tuesday night, it was all a little bit foggy. He’d gone to Caz Rosier’s home and been forced to take a drug and after that, everything was a jumble. It was scary to have no idea what you’d done. He woke up the next day feeling hungover but otherwise no worse for the wear so maybe the worst thing that had happened was that he couldn’t remember exactly what’d happened.
He had to return to the Potion Shop that Friday after work. Adrian was still wearing one of his nicer work outfits, a crisp white button-up shirt that was done up neatly all the way to his throat and a pair of tailored black pants. He had a tie on, pulled loose the moment his work day was over, while he was on his way to the Floo, then to Adrian’s shop.
Adrian gave the door a nudge open, stepping inside. Yesterday he’d been feeling quite miserable but today he was doing better. He’d had to call out of work and everything, but it was his first sick day since he started so he figured he’d be fine. Today, he might’ve looked a little tired, at most. Adrian gave a furtive look one way and then the next, as he moved toward the front counter.
“It’s just me,” he called out when he didn’t see Caz right away, moving in and leaning forward with his elbows on one of the display cases near the cash register.
Caz, on the other hand, had not forgotten exactly what Adrian had said to him that night, at his home. He had been idly pondering those words over the past few days, trying to decide exactly what he could do with them, how he could use them. How he could make Adrian squirm some more, break a little more.
When Adrian arrived, Caz was standing at a cauldron, working on a potion. The liquid shimmered a blue-purple in the cauldron, bubbling away as he stirred in another blue liquid with a careful measurement. He gave a quick stir and then glanced up, watching the door open and Adrian step in, heading towards the cash register.
“Yes, it is,” he agreed dryly as he watched him move. He knew his voice would alert the former Slytherin to his presence. He waited for him to turn around before he continued. “Come here.” He didn’t really need Adrian to be standing right in front of him, but wanted to give orders and see Adrian follow them.
“How did you fare after Tuesday night?”
From where he was standing, Adrian couldn't see Caz at all. It wasn't until he spoke up that he heard him and jumped, looking over his shoulder. There Caz was, behind the cauldron of course. He seemed to be there a lot. The guy worked hard, and if he actually made that Hex stuff from the other night... he was talented.
Adrian would've thought it was much more impressive if he wasn't a guinea pig for the mostly-untested stuff. Straightening, Adrian turned to face him, leaning back against the display case now.
Caz was always ordering him around. Adrian huffed out a sigh and rolled his eyes, taking a few steps toward Caz. "What?" he asked him, his hands coming to rest on his hips for a second before he shifted to cross his arms over his chest instead. The question made him frown and he answered, rather irritably. "Not good. I couldn't even go to work the next day. I had to call in sick, I was so drained," he said.
“Shame,” Caz replied in a voice that said that he wasn’t bothered by that at all. Although Adrian’s job at the Ministry could be quite useful to him. He was sending out feelers, planning to make connections in a number of places, and the Ministry was of course one of them. A very important one of them, and he planned to have a few puppets within its walls.
“You’re alive,” he remarked, because really, Adrian could be much worse off than he had been. He was likely only beginning to realize that as well, just how much trouble Caz could bring him, if he wanted.
He gave the cauldron a another precise stir and then set his wand to stir automatically. The potion needed to simmer for a good half an hour anyway.
Stepping around the cauldron, he stalked towards Adrian, pressing a fingertip under his chin to tip it upwards so he could look him directly in the eyes. “How much of do you remember about that night, Little Rabbit?”
Oh yeah, Caz sounded really broken up about it. Adrian's lips pursed and he thought about saying something for at least a few moments. "It was my first sick day since I got that job," he went on with his complaints anyway, even though he could tell that Caz didn't really give a care. He might as well just stop trying to get any sympathy about how bad he'd been feeling.
"Obviously," he grumbled. His hands balled into fists, arms still crossed over his chest as Caz finished up at the cauldron and got up to walk over. Adrian tried hard not to shrink away when Caz stalked closer - the way he looked at him made him feel like prey. And that nickname didn't help anything. Nor did the way that Caz reached up to touch him. His heart skipped a beat, throat going dry when he felt the other man tipping his chin up, looking him right in the eye, so close. Adrian was determined not to let on about his inclinations.
"I remember you forced an illegal drug down my throat," he said, petulantly. "And after that, everything gets pretty blurry." He could remember feelings - a little fear, a lot of giddiness. "And I wish you would stop calling me that. I'm not a Rabbit," he just had to protest.
“Well you wouldn’t take it as you were told to,” Caz replied blandly. “You may try and fight it, but you’ll learn quickly enough - you either do what I tell you to do, or I’ll make you.” He said this rather succinctly, in a matter-of-fact way. “The former would be easier for you, I assure you. However the latter is more enjoyable for me so please, take your pick.”
“But you are a Rabbit, Adrian,” he crooned. “You may think you’re a hare - or something bigger and braver - but you’re not. You tremble. You startle. And you’d hop if I wanted you to.” His fingertip dragged along the underside of Adrian’s chin and down his throat. He could feel that pulse skipping along again.
“So you do not remember our conversation?” he asked, not at all surprised to hear that it had been lost in haze of the drug. “You don’t remember the things you told me?” As he spoke, the maniacally dark smirk spread slowly but surely across his face. “Well consider yourself fortunate, because I remember every word of it.”
Adrian's response to that was a scowl, his lips pursing and jaw clenched. There was something in the corner of his mind, some worrying little thought, maybe part of a memory from the night before. Some reason he should be scared of Caz. "I'm not your little lap dog," Adrian said, his tone very carefully steady. He wasn't going to give Caz the satisfaction of making him react strongly to that.
He was not going to tremble. Or startle. Not this time. The fingertip dragging down his throat threatened to make him shiver. Adrian didn't understand why Caz would touch him like that. Fingernails scraping along his skin was always, honestly, a turn-on. That along with biting. Roughness. It made him feel . "I wouldn't hop," he had to argue, moving to pull back from Caz. He didn't need this right now.
"No, I don't remember our conversation. I was completely bollocksed up," Adrian growled. Merlin, that smirk again. His arms uncrossed so that he could pull back from Caz, wanting to take at least one step back. "What did I say?"
Caz chuckled, and there was nothing friendly in it. “Oh but you are,” he crooned. “You come when I call and you do what I say. You even sit.” The tip of his tongue traced along his upper lip before he continued. “It doesn’t matter that I forced your hand - it matters that you do it.”
When Adrian took a step back, Caz took a step to follow. His fingers curled around the other’s throat, holding him in a loose - for now - grip. “I think you would,” he smirked, as he closed in on him, crowding into his personal space. With his free hand he cast a wandless spell, warding the door locked. His other hand slipped downwards and he grabbed hold of Adrian’s shirtfront, wrinkling the material as he pulled him along, down one of the aisles. And Adrian could either come willingly or be dragged.
All the way down the aisle he went, pulling Adrian with him, until he reached the end of the aisle, where he pushed him against the wall. “Mmm, what did you say?” he echoed with a nasty smirk that made his cheekbones pop and his eyes glitter malevolently. “You said that you liked men, Little Rabbit. Don’t you remember?”
Adrian scowled while Caz described him, sounding so pleased with himself. Like he was describing some pet, some dog or something. He shook his head a bit, wanting so badly to argue. He was concentrating on a good comeback when Caz's hand curled around his throat and his eyes widened at the grip. He felt like all the air was going out of the room and it wasn't just because of the fingers wrapped around his neck. Something about it reminded him of the other night, when he had the Hex. The next day Adrian had had faint, light marks up and down his throat. He didn't even know what'd happened, but they'd faded away by now.
Caz came so close to him, and it was getting increasingly hard to breathe. Then Caz was dragging him and Adrian was stumbling to follow, halfway dragged because he wasn't quick or coordinated enough. He made a few sounds of complaint, but they died in his throat when Caz pushed him against a wall, came close, and... and then he said that. The revelation made Adrian gasp, his head shaking fast. "That's not true!" he insisted. What an outrage! Even though he doubted he could break away from Caz he struggled to anyway. "You're just - you -" he actually sounded like he might be hyperventilating, rushing to deny, deny, deny so fast that his tongue was tied in knots. He tried to push Caz away. "You're just - you're trying to -" but he couldn't finish a sentence, he was in such a panic.
Of course it was true, but Adrian could never tell anyone, especially not Caz Rosier. He pushed at him again, visibly upset. Shaken. Even shaking a little bit. "You're lying! I don't!" he all but shouted, as though the idea disgusted him. "I'm not gay! How dare you!"
Caz showed his teeth in a dark grin as Adrian started to struggle, started to quickly and sharply refute the words he had said. The struggles did not work - Caz kept him pinned where he was, using the leverage of the wall behind him and his own body to kepe Adrian trapped there where he was.
“Whether you’re gay or not is of little concern,” he murmured. People were so quick to put labels on things, to categorize everything, to put everything in a neat and tidy little box. Sexuality was just one such thing. “Whatever you might be, Rabbit, you like men. You said as much - and more importantly, you showed as much.” He chuckled softly, knowingly, and wedged a leg between Adrian’s own.
“That’s not all you like,” he added as he leaned in, to speak softly, intimately into Adrian’s ear. “You fight this because you like it. You might not want to admit it, but you like it.” He slipped a hand to Adrian’s waist, untucking his shirt so he could slide his hand upwards, over his side - and then raked his nails downwards, leaving a line of red nail marks down his side. “You want to be hurt, don’t you, Little Rabbit?”
If Adrian managed to pull one arm away from Caz, the man was pressing him against the wall in another place. He still struggled, his face turned away from him when he started talking again. "No, I don't," his protests were getting quieter but no less adamant. When that leg came between his own, he whimpered a bit, his hips pressing back against the wall, trying to get away from the friction. He didn't want his body to react, not now.
Caz's breath felt hot against his ear, and the tone of his voice was enough to make Adrian shiver, as much as he tried to hide it. "I don't like it," he argued quickly and then Caz's hand was working his shirt untucked and touching his skin and Adrian didn't know if he wanted to cry or scream. Nails raked down his skin and he shook his head fast, trying to make his voice steady as he could, to hide the things he felt. "Of course I don't," he answered in a whine.
His head still shook faintly, still denying everything Caz was saying with every inch of his body. Well, almost every inch. He realized, around the time that he started to get hard, that Caz's knee was just like that spell that took his vital statistics. Keeping track of Adrian's body. He couldn't have one secret. He felt so helpless and exposed, laid bare for Caz to see; he kept struggling, and one or two of the tears that welled up in his eyes actually rolled down his cheeks.
Caz shifted in a deliberate manner, letting his thigh drag between Adrian’s legs in a way that was far too precise to be anything but purposeful. “You lie,” he said with another chuckle that spoke of knowing, and a smirk twisting his lips. “You can speak all the words of protest that you want, but your body says otherwise.”
The tears that trickled down Adrian’s cheeks did nothing to sway Caz. He was not moved by such things - it only made him more satisfied that he was cracking him, making him break to his will. “Now now, don’t cry for your secrets,” he said as he leaned in, tracing a tear track with the tip of his tongue, licking up the salty liquid. “You cannot hide from me, Little Rabbit.” Whether he wished to or not.
“Don’t you see?” he continued, letting his hand slide down until he was cupping him through the trousers, finding the evidence of Adrian’s lie. “I own you. All of you.” He gave a light squeeze. “Struggle or submit, it matters not to me.”
Adrian could feel every little movement of that leg pressed so tight against his lap. Every shift made his body want to tremble, but he held on so tight not to give in. If he let himself admit that it felt good, he'd give in to Caz. He wanted so fiercely for Caz to be wrong about him, to not be what the other man was saying he was. His breathing was harder, sweat breaking out along his brow but no matter how he moved, he couldn't get away from Caz. For a few moments, he was trying to go somewhere else, to think about Quidditch statistics or his grandmother, anything that would stop the arousal he felt.
The drag of a tongue along his cheek, capturing one of the escaped tears, brought him back to all of this. It made a wave of... something... rise up in Adrian. He couldn't even be sure what it was - revulsion or desire? "Don't," he breathed as he felt Caz's hand going down. It was definitely desire that had him throbbing against Caz's hand. There was no hiding it now, but Adrian would rather die than admit to any of it.
"Why?" he asked, his head tipping back against the wall. "Why won't you leave me alone?" It took every shred of self-control he had not to move his hips as Caz was squeezing him. "Can't you just go own somebody else?" his voice was so small, almost begging. He would beg, if that was what it took for Caz to let him go back to his blissful ignorance.
While Caz knew the meaning of the word ‘don’t’ - his vocabulary was, after all, excellent - it was not a word he thought applied to him. He did what he wanted, and the world was his for the taking, as far as he was concerned, and everything - and everyone - on it. Most people were too dull, too trite to hold his attention at all, didn‘t deserve anything more than death, as far as he was concerned. Adrian was more than that, because he would be someone fun to toy with, to break.
He did want Adrian to beg, but not in the manner the young man was currently thinking.
“Because right now, I want you,” he said. He did not mean that in any romantic or affectionate manner - it was questionable if he would ever be capable of such things - but in a purely possessive manner. Adrian was his, and he wanted to pull reactions from him.
His hand stroked, slow and measured, through the fabric of Adrian’s trousers. “Just admit what it is that you want, Rabbit. I want to hear you say the words.” And if those words didn’t come today - there would be other days.
Adrian didn't know what to make of those words. There were so many things that the phrase could mean; once again, an answer from Caz only made Adrian have twice as many questions. He swallowed back the urge to say anything at all, looking away as Caz's hand started to stroke him through his trousers and even through the layers of fabric, it felt...
He wouldn't admit how it felt. Adrian's jaw set, clenched, and he gasped in a deep breath. "No," he answered Caz. "You're not hearing me say anything. I don't want anything, not from you," but it was a lie. It was all a lie. He bit down on his lower lip, hard, eyes squeezing shut.
"I just want you to leave me alone," he added after a few moments, his lip popping free of his teeth, small indents along it proving just how hard he'd been biting down. Another lie, but the truth was something he couldn't even deal with right then.
“You might want that,” Caz agreed, his voice low. “But that’s not all that you want.” He fully believed that Adrian was a man torn, between what his brain told him he wanted, and what his body desired. What his subconscious desired. He could read the struggle in him, the way he was trying to fight his own arousal, but he could also feel just how much Adrian physically wanted this, in the hard length under his palm.
“You will say it. Perhaps not today, but one day, you will beg for me to do whatever I please,” he crooned. “You’ll beg me to tie you up, to hurt you, to make your skin bloom red. You’ll beg me to take you, Adrian,” he promised. “You’ll crave it.” Crave him, and the things that he could do.
Caz’s free hand snaked under Adrian’s shirt again, sliding up his chest to twist one nipple between his fingers, a hard tweak. “Because you really just want someone who can hold you down and fuck you hard, don’t you?” he purred. The words were as much to illicit a reaction as they were to make Adrian try and deny them.
The longer this went on, the more impossible it felt to fight it. Adrian had had plenty of sex before - with girls and with that one man, that one time - but he never felt like this. Hot all over, his every muscle pulled taut and body almost trembling. It wasn't just the way Caz touched him, but his words and the tone of his voice. The things he suggested that Adrian had to fight himself not to want. "No, I- I don't," Adrian tried to argue from the neck up at least, still determined to prove it to himself that it wasn't what he wanted at all.
But the seeds were planted in his head, and once Caz mentioned him being tied up and hurt Adrian couldn't help but consider it, if only for a moment. The images his mind conjured up were enough to make the blush spread from his cheeks all the way down his neck and even to the tips of his ears. "I'll never," he breathed.
Adrian hadn't even noticed that Caz's hand was moving under his shirt - far too preoccupied with what his other hand was doing - until he felt that hard, sudden tweak to his nipple right as Caz suggested that he needed to be held down and fucked hard, and his body responded before his brain could stop it. The sudden, high cry that escaped his lips was nothing compared to the way his back arched, hips bucking into Caz's touch, as though begging for it. He hated himself for it immediately.
His mouth couldn't even form words to deny that it was exactly what he wanted.
“You say that as if you have a choice in the matter,” Caz said cruelly. “It is only a matter of time.” And time he was willing to put into this. The end result would be so sweet, that ultimate submission. When Adrian became his completely, willing and eager to do anything, to let him do anything - when Adrian reached such a point that no one else would do. Caz would spoil him for anyone else.
“You want all of that and more,” he continued, pausing in his strokes to flick open the button of Adrian’s trousers, and draw down the zipper. His hand slipped in, past his underwear, to take him fully in hand, fingers curling around hot, hard flesh. “You want the evidence of bruises to touch, to remind you. You want the marks of cords around your wrist, to run your fingers over and make you hard while sitting in your office. You want to be so sore that you cannot sit down.”
Stroking anew, Caz leaned in like he might kiss him. Instead he caught Adrian’s lower lip between his teeth, and bit down hard enough to draw blood, the coppery bloom against his tongue.
For those few moments while Caz stopped the stroking to open up his trousers, Adrian thought he might recover enough to remember that he wanted to pull away. He wanted this to stop, didn't he? His mind was blank, arousal so intense that it was dizzying and everything that Caz said to him made him throb, putting ideas in his mind that he'd never let in before.
Then Caz took him in hand again and made him whimper, pressing forward against the touch. His lips were parted, gasping for breath as Caz told Adrian what he wanted. He didn't make a sound to deny it; he could barely string together two thoughts in his mind, much less two words or even two letters. It had been a while, so he was a little bit pent-up but even that didn't account for this.
For a moment Adrian thought Caz would kiss him but he bit him instead, so hard. He gave another whimper, his head tipping back a little bit as though offering the lip to him. There was so much going on that Adrian couldn't control his body language anymore. His hips bucked against Caz's hand, his length making Caz's fingers wet, so aroused that he was leaking, already on the edge. The shame he felt for feeling so hot made him even hotter, a big vicious circle.
Caz took the offered lip again, biting once more and worrying the already damaged fleshing, licking at the blood that welled to the surface, savouring the iron-rich flavour, swallowing the whimpers that came forth.
“Look how much you want this,” he said, voice little more than a dark whisper. “Despite your denials.” Caz stroked him more firmly, more quickly, sensing his release was close, and he wanted that, wanted Adrian to come apart under his hand, regardless of how much he tried to refuse.
“And this is only the beginning,” he promised, pulling back to admire the blood streaked across Adrian’s mouth, a shiny, slick crimson that he could taste on his own. “This is only the tip of the iceberg.” A mere taste of what Caz was planning. He would take Adrian and lead him down to the depths of depravity, and what was more, he would make Adrian like it. His head dipped towards Adrian’s ear. “Now come for me, Little Rabbit. You know you want to.” To spur it along he drew his lips downwards, over his throat, and bit down at the juncture of neck and shoulder.
It hurt, the way Caz bit his lip, but it was good. Adrian hated himself for wanting that sharp bite. The duller, throbbing ache that followed as Caz licked over the flesh was almost better. He could taste blood too, coppery on his tongue, and knew what Caz was licking up. He'd tasted his tears already, and now his blood... Adrian really was starting to feel like the other man owned every part of him.
He wanted to cry at what Caz said next, his head giving a faint shake as Caz pulled back from his mouth. There was what Adrian said and then there was the evidence, despite his denials. Despite the entire state of denial that he was in.
Adrian met Caz's eye when he looked at him and made those promises. Adrian didn't know what he was in for, had no idea what Caz was going to do with him but increasingly, he was feeling like it wasn't up to him at all. He had no say in it, absolutely zero control. It was terrifying, and for whatever reason, that fear was exciting to him.
He didn't want to come right when Caz said to, just as a matter of pride, but he was already too close to stop himself. His lips were parted, panting for breath and when Caz bit down on him again he gave a cry. For once, when Adrian's hands set against Caz, he was pulling him closer and not pushing him away. Adrian's fingertips, dull because he always bit his nails, set against Caz's shoulders and clung to him almost desperately as he drew close to the edge and then tumbled right over it. His hips gave a couple of shallow thrusts into Caz's grip and he came harder than he ever had before, throbbing in Caz's hand for a good dozen more strokes until it was all worked out of him.
Caz held Adrian in place as he reached his climax, making sure that if his knees buckled he didn’t sink to the ground. Pinning him there as he stroked him through it, milking him for everything he had to give. It was a pleasure to watch him shake apart in such a manner, against his own will and desire.
“Mmm, I could have you chained up in my house,” he purred as he looked at the now very debauched young man he held to the wall. “If only your work wasn’t potentially useful.” Having Adrian work for the Ministry was something he could use to his own advantage, he had not overlooked that fact. It was just another reason why Adrian Pucey was the perfect ‘pet’.
His hand withdrew and he cast a quick, wordless cleansing spell. “Maybe I’ll just put you in a collar so you’ll always know who you belong to,” he chuckled, tracing a finger across Adrian’s throat, rubbing against the bite marks that he had left behind.
For a few moments right after his climax, everything went dark. Caz spoke but it was like Adrian's head was under water, trying to make sense of the words but they were muffled and far away. He caught his breath, coming back down to earth once it was all over and the aftershocks had gone through him, making his body tremble and need to hold onto Caz to keep his balance.
Caz was saying something about his work being useful. Adrian's eyes opened, gaze at first a little hazy but clearing up after a few more moments, as his breathing slowed down again. "I can't wear a collar to work," he murmured, lifting his hand up to bat away that finger Caz had tracing along his throat, rather forcefully. He was embarrassed, ashamed, and really, really angry about what'd just happened. Half of that rage was directed at Caz; the other half was directed right at himself and his body. It'd betrayed him.
"I don't belong to you," he spat, lifting his hand a bit more to wipe the blood from his lip. "You're fucking crazy," he added, sharply.
“You would if I told you to,” Caz replied smoothly, unphased at having his hand batted away. He just smirked and looked amused, like Adrian was some tiny fluffy animal attempting to be strong and fearsome. Which was probably not the reaction that Adrian had been hoping for.
He shook his head in a slow, languid movement, his eyes never wavering from Adrian’s face. “Oh I’m not crazy, pet,” he said. It would probably have been better if he was crazy, but Caz Rosier was perfectly sane. He was fully and completely aware of every single thing that he did and said. He had no breaks with reality, no delusions - he just did not hold to society’s set of morals and values either and completely lacked empathy.
Crazy would have been a lot less dangerous.
“Consider yourself fortunate that I find you useful,” he added in a purposefully off-handed manner. “You could be dead.”
All Caz did was smirk at him like he'd done something funny. It made Adrian want to hit him. If his body wasn't feeling weak and pliable, like he was ready to lay down for a nap, he might've been angry enough to do just that. Instead he glared right back at Caz. He said he wasn't crazy, and maybe 'crazy' wasn't the right word. There was definitely something about him that was unhinged, though.
"I'm not your pet," he argued that, frowning at the next words. He could've been dead? He didn't understand that, unless Caz meant that he could kill him. Part of Adrian believed that Caz actually could do that to a person.
He didn't respond to that, apart from his brow furrowing and lips pulling into a frown, tugging at the wound that was still red with blood. Adrian still hadn't fully processed everything that had just happened. That Caz had really... that he'd just come apart in that man's hand and how strong and overpowering the feeling had been.
"Can I go?" he asked finally, his voice very very small.
“Yes. You are,” Caz corrected. He lifted a hand and traced the tip of his index finger down Adrian’s cheek. “You’re mine, whether you want to be or not.” He had leverage over Adrian, he had him right where he wanted him - right in his clutches.
And with time, it wouldn’t matter what sort of leverage he had over him. With time, Adrian would want to be owned, Caz was rather sure of it.
“You can go,” he murmured, stepping back so that Adrian could put himself together enough to leave. “But you’ll come when I call.” There was now a double entendre to those words, all the better. “And I will call again soon.” For what end, it was difficult to say. For testing potions, to toy with Adrian’s wants and desires, or for some other purpose entirely.
“I will see you soon, pet.”
Adrian's gaze hardened as he felt Caz's finger stroke down his cheek. He wanted so bad to fight, but by now so much had happened... he'd told Caz things, he'd been given drugs and now this. He could never let Caz tell anyone anything about this. His cheeks were still burning, his hair a mess, his shirt untucked and pants undone. Debauched was an apt description.
He started to try to fix that when Caz gave him leave to - but not a moment sooner - and tucked the shirt in before zipping his trousers and getting his button closed again. All in the middle of a shop in London. It was all so torrid. He smoothed his hands over his shirt to brush the wrinkles out. Maybe if he could walk out of the shop looking perfectly fine, as though nothing had just happened, it'd really be like that. He wouldn't have to admit that thinking about next time made him shiver.