no subject

[it really is good morning viktor

he hesitates, and father sighs.]

You're still young and naive, Throné. [he sounds... exasperated. like the stranger in front of you isn't absolutely terrified. not of you, really. you think he's probably scared of father. a lot of people are. you are too, sometimes, when he looks at you like he does. one time, you watched a pack of wild dogs tear into a rat on the street, and watched the way they salivated and growled, the way they ripped it apart with a sort of gleeful air. the way father looks at you sometimes reminds you of that.]

You're wasting your sympathy. He's the worst sort of scum there is.

[he tells you this like he's coaxing you to eat your vegetables. like a father would.]