✩ тнιяту ✩

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ɪ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ғᴀɪᴛʜ


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ᴡɪᴛʜ the monster, a Minotaur as the Doctor has claimed him to be, locked in the hotel spa, they are safe from the confines of horror and Kate resumes watch over Howie in the reception, sitting on the desk with her head leaning against cool metal, legs swinging back and forth. Beside her stands Gibbis, wringing his hands together, lip pulled between sharp mole-like teeth, eyes flickering from Howie to Kate and back again.

"What's going on?" Howie asks, coming out of his possession that led the Minotaur into the spa in the first place. "You lied to me."

"You have to stay calm, Howie," Kate tries to soothe, watching the nerdy boy fight against the ropes that tie him against the chair from the restaurant. She feels bad for him, but she feels worse for herself, stuck on babysitting duty because her head is splitting itself from the inside out. She keeps her legs constantly swinging back and forth, forcing herself to focus on anything other than the way her head is pounding.

"This is for your own good," Gibbis tells him.

"At least stand where I can see you."

"Sorry, Howie, we've been told not to speak to you. Just in case, you know?"

"It don't mean you can't listen." His voice is dark as he smirks over his shoulder at the two, eyes trailing over Kate's figure, blinking slowly so that long dark lashes curl over his high cheekbones covered in a light dusting of freckles. She feels vulnerable under his stormy gaze, nude and bare to his senses, untouched soul being sucked out of her as the seconds tick by.

Babysitting duty has never been so hard.

"You were right, you know?" His eyes cut over to Gibbis, ghastly smirk deepening at the way the Tivolian man shakes. "Chances are, if you hand me over, he'll leave you alone."

"Don't listen to him," Kate is quick to cut in, hand shooting out to wrap around Gibbis' arm and keep him from moving closer at Howie's seductive cooing, trying to lead him in to a dangerous trap that will leave them begging on their knees for forgiveness from the Doctor like a priest atoning for his sins, silent prayers falling onto deaf ears.

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