Francis was bad. He promised himself he wouldn't sway in his cleansing of the earth. But your sweet nature had him hooked by the cheek like a fish on a line.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and you had no idea how much agony it coursed through him to know you'd become his weakness.

He stares down at you as you mess with your palms. Francis never initiated touch in the whole while you've known him.

But with shaking, wary hands his fingers cover yours. Eyes hesitant.

"..Is this alright?"