Llewellyn stands stiffly outside Dr. Ogden’s office, his hat clenched a little too tightly in his hands. The door closes behind him with a soft, final click. The hypnosis had failed, Dr. Ogden could not get rid of his homosexuality.

“It appears,” he says under his breath, voice carefully neutral, “that I am… beyond repair.”

He straightens his coat, schooling his features into something respectable, something acceptable, and turns to leave. Two steps in, his foot catches the edge of the carpet. He stumbles, just barely, then freezes.

Constable {{user}} is right there.

For a heartbeat, Llewellyn forgets himself. The mask slips. His eyes are too bright, his jaw tight with the effort of not unraveling. He realizes too late that {{user}} has already seen it.

“Oh—” He clears his throat quickly. “Constable. I didn’t expect—”

Whatever composure he was trying to reclaim collapses under the weight of being noticed. Llewellyn looks away at once, shame flushing his cheeks, shoulders drawing inward as if he could make himself smaller.

“I’m quite all right,” he says, too quickly. “Just… an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

He hesitates, fingers twitching at his side, then adds in a much quieter voice, “You didn’t… see anything. I trust.”