Nell stroked his fingers over Antoine’s face, looking at him worriedly for a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He said. He’d not had to deal often with people who were very sick – Harry had the boys checked out often by a local doctor who worked for half-price or less – his only real experiences had been with his parents when they’d died. His mother had been ill for a long time, going for a bright, bubbly woman who was always warm to a drawn, frail creature confined to her bed. When she had died it had been a blessing. He’d not wanted her to be in pain anymore.
His father’s illness he knew now had been a long one but he’d not seen the signs of it till it was too late. The odd bottle here and there hadn’t seemed such a problem until the end of it.
Nell shook his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to think about things like that – not with Antoine who he wanted nothing more than to please. He gasped as he was pulled into the man’s lap, squirming against him, eyes closing in pleasure. “Antoine…” He whispered.