LuRe fic- Oliver vs. Channing
Summary: Luke defends Reid.
Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is my first LuRe fic, so go easy on me! I got the inspiration from Reid's deep rivalry with the yet-unseen Dr. Channing. Rated PG-13 for some offensive language.
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of ATWT. No infringement is intended. I own nothing!
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“So what do you think?” Luke asked as he exited the boardroom with Reid. Since the man barely ever gave so much as a smile, it was hard to tell how the doctor was feeling after his first board meeting with chiefs of staff at the hospital.
“What do I think about what, Mr. Snyder?” Reid asked, his usual sarcastic tone deflecting off Luke. By this time, everyone had gotten used to his manner of speaking.
“The board meeting,” Luke jutted his thumb over his shoulder as he walked down the hospital corridor with the doctor.
“Well, the coffee was stale, but I’ve come to expect that in Oakdale.”
“No, I mean the actual meeting. Not bad for our first time, right?”
Dr. Oliver ignored the double meaning of that sentence and rolled his eyes. The kid’s constant optimism was annoying, like sunshine spewing from a bunny’s mouth. It may have been cute at first, but after a while, you just wanted to take a glue gun to its mouth.
Wait.
Cute?
Reid shook the word from his mind. Bad example. Luke Snyder may have been slightly above average in the looks department, but he was still a spoiled brat.
A spoiled brat whose money helped fund the new neurological wing of this hospital. Damn. Reid would have to do something about these pesky little reminders that got in the way of his prejudice.
“The only way that meeting could have been any more ridiculous, Mr. Snyder, is if someone pulled out a tea set and passed around invisible crumpets on a pink saucer.”
“Aww, what’s a matter?” Luke said with a smile, following the doctor in the locker room. “Are you mad because the board didn’t like some of your ideas?”
“No, I’m mad because you’re in here when I should be getting ready for my rounds.” Reid shooed Luke away with his hand. “Run along.”
Luke laughed and shook his head. “It was nice working with you too, Dr. Oliver.”
“Stop putting words in my mouth, Mr. Snyder,” Reid called out as Luke left the room.
When the door clicked shut and Reid was by himself, he opened his locker and retrieved his scrubs. He paused. The meeting hadn’t really been that bad. And hell-Mr. Snyder had even stuck up for him once in a while when the big-shots dismissed some of his ideas.
But was Luke really doing it for him?
Half of the money going into this project came from that spoiled brat in the first place. Of course he would want to be involved in his investment. Of course he’d stick up for Reid. It was his job, nothing more, nothing less.
And yet . . .
Reid shook his head and got dressed for his rounds. Mr. Snyder only ever did things that benefitted himself. But then, so did Reid. A small smile cracked the contemplative landscape of his face. Maybe they were more alike than he gave credit for.
When Reid finished dressing, clipboard in hand and eager to see who’s life he could improve today, he exited the locker room and saw a man peering into the window of one of his patients.
“Excuse me,” Reid said, tapping the taller man on the shoulder. “Can I help you, sir?”
The man turned. He wore a suit and tie, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back and a cocky smile on his face. Reid frowned.
“Dr. Channing,” he said with a sigh. “Funny seeing you in these parts.”
The doctor chuckled and folded his hands together. “I could say the same thing about you, Reid. Last time I saw you, you were hacking patients’ skulls open with a meat cleaver in Dallas.”
“I use a machete these days, don’t worry.”
Dr. Channing laughed again. “Still got that serpent tongue, I see.”
“What’re you doing here, John?”
Luke stopped as he walked through the corridor to Bob Hughes’ office. He had been chasing the man down ever since the meeting had adjourned, to fill him in on the events since Bob was performing surgery at the time. He saw Dr. Oliver chatting with a tall, too-friendly man with untrustworthy eyes.
“I was coming back from a conference in Minneapolis,” Dr. Channing said. “I heard that Memorial Hospital in Oakdale was getting a new neurological wing, and I thought to myself: who would have the arrogance to pull something like that off in a sleepy, backwoods little town?”
“You know, it’s funny, John-when you’re the best neurological surgeon in the country, people give you all kinds of neat stuff for saving countless lives.”
“Whatever helps you get through the day, Reid.” Channing smiled again, peering at Dr. Oliver in a condescending way that not even Luke was prepared for. “What I can’t figure out, though,” the man continued, “is why you left all your fame and glory in Texas to spray bug repellant on a bunch of yokels who probably couldn’t even spell ‘neurology’.”
Luke stiffened as he watched their repartee from his corner. The man’s arrogance was almost as bad as Dr. Oliver’s, maybe even a little worse. He expected Dr. Oliver to go into the long story of how he had gotten to Oakdale in the first place-that Luke had practically kidnapped him and forced him to stay to perform surgery on someone who didn’t even want to be with him anymore.
“You can say what you want about this town,” Reid said, “but this hospital is in the running to have the best neurological center in the country. And that’s worth everything. So why don’t you go sulk back to your deli slicer in Chicago and if, God forbid, you develop a tumor in that thick skull of yours, I’ll be sure to give you a discount when you stop by for a lobotomy.”
Reid turned, confident in his response. Luke felt himself smile. Dr. Oliver may have been crass and arrogant, but he knew how to tell a person off, especially someone who deserved it. That kind of bravery enflamed a sensation in Luke, a feeling he didn’t have words for. It felt almost like . . . pride.
“These are big words coming from a man like you,” Dr. Channing said.
Reid stopped. Closed his eyes. He turned, knowing that he was letting this jerk get the best of him. If this were the Middle Ages, he would have taken his glove and slapped the arrogant son of a bitch across the face. Pistols at dawn. Unfortunately for Reid, all he had for a weapon was his words.
“And what kind of man am I, John? Other than brilliant, motivated, and competent enough to hold a scalpel?”
“You know what I mean, Reid.” Dr. Channing said.
Luke raised an eyebrow. The man’s unwavering smile was disturbing, that of a serial killer rather than a doctor. Maybe he was both. He looked at Dr. Oliver and the man’s face was serious, not confident like before, but underscored by a twitch of something . . . what was it?
Pain. Anger.
Reid’s eyes faltered, just barely, then he turned away again. “I don’t have time for patty-cake, John. You can see yourself out.”
“You know what keeps me going, Reid?” Dr. Channing called out.
“Your growing addiction to Vicodin?”
“You may be brilliant, sure. But I’m not the one who has to live with the fact that I’m only half a man.”
Reid spun around. “Excuse me?”
“That’s right.” Channing slapped a hand on Reid’s shoulder. “But don’t worry, Reid, I won’t let anyone around here know that they’re building a neurological wing for a fag.”
Reid tensed. He clenched his fist, barbs bared for an actual fight. When he thought he couldn’t control the impulse to clock the man in the face, someone grabbed Channing’s arm, spun him around, and did it for him.
Dr. Channing stumbled back, clutching the left side of his face. Luke stood before him, fist in a tight ball, his face staring at the man as though he wanted to rip his head off. When the stars disappeared from Channing’s eyes, he pointed to Luke.
“What the hell is your problem?” he cried.
“For your information,” Luke yelled back, “that neurological wing is funded by a fag, you bigoted asshole! And if you ever call Dr. Oliver that word again, I will have you murdered!”
“You little piece of-” Channing lunged at Luke. A fist sliced through the air and struck Luke across the face. Reid jumped out of his stunned stupor and stepped between them, holding the doctor off.
“Security!” Reid called. Two security guards rushed from around the corner and apprehended Dr. Channing. “Get him out of here!”
“Get your hands off of me!” Channing yelled as the security guards took him away.
Reid watched the man go until he was around the corner and out of sight. He turned to Luke and the man was touching his bottom lip with the heel of his hand. An emotion erupted in Dr. Oliver, something he only felt when he was on the operating table and things were going wrong. Fear.
Fear turned to anger when he saw Luke pull back blood on his hand.
“Jesus, Snyder, what the hell were you thinking?” Reid yelled. He approached the young man and reached a hand out to asses the injury.
Luke jerked back. “It’s nothing-”
“You’re bleeding. Come on.”
Reid led Luke to an empty room and had him sit on the bed. Reid took a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cloth from the cabinet.
“I’m sorry,” Luke said.
Reid doused a corner of the cloth in the sharp-smelling liquid. “This is going to sting,” he pressed it to Luke’s cut.
Luke hissed a breath through his teeth and Dr. Oliver dabbed the cloth on his sensitive skin. A bruise was already forming along the corner of his mouth, stretching down to his chin. Again Reid felt anger swell in his body. “Hold this,” he said, pressing the cloth to Luke’s cut.
Luke did as he was instructed and kept the cloth on his cut. Reid retrieved another cloth and put more alcohol on it. He took Luke’s hand, the one he had used to punch Channing with, and swiped the cloth across his red knuckles.
“Ouch!”
Luke tried to pull away, but Reid kept his grip. He looked at the young man’s eyes, their faces impossibly close as Reid hovered in front of him. Luke stared back, a silent intensity in them that made Dr. Oliver’s pulse quicken. Reid blinked and focused on Luke’s knuckles again.
“You know, that was a really stupid thing you did.”
Luke lowered his eyes. “I know. I shouldn’t have hit him.”
“What?” Reid caught his eyes. “No, I mean you should have kept your thumb lower and relaxed your fist until you came into contact with his face.”
Luke’s eyebrows raised. “You’re not mad I hit him?”
“Mad? Why would I be? I’ve been wanting to punch that jerk in the face for years. He’s a bigot and a third-rate doctor.”
A laugh escaped Luke. “Aren’t you worried about what he’ll do?”
“He’ll go back to Chicago, cry about it to his interns, and, if I’m lucky, he’ll have me barred from practicing in that city.”
Though it hurt his face, Luke smiled softly. “I heard about what you said . . . when you were talking about Oakdale.”
Reid stopped and looked at Luke.
“Thank you for not trashing my town.” Luke rolled his eyes. “You know, anymore than you usually do.”
“I have high hopes for this town, Mr. Snyder,” Reid said, tending to Luke’s hand again. “I would have done the same for any sleepy old hamlet that was happening to build a state-of-the-art neurological center.”
Luke laughed again, but this time at a price. “Ow, ow.” He felt the opening of his cut widen.
“Let me see,” Reid took the cloth from Luke’s lip and examined the raw flesh. The bleeding had already stopped, and he probably wouldn’t need stitches. Reid felt a strange sense of relief was over him at the idea of Luke’s lips remaining intact, those damn lips that were at once beautiful and terribly annoying. He raised his eyes and caught Luke staring at him. “What?” he asked.
“You’re being nice,” Luke said simply.
Reid realized his lips were parted slightly and closed them. He suddenly felt vulnerable and out of place, the mere inches separating the gap between him and Luke’s faces was stifling. The wall was crumbling, he could feel it being chipped away in his body brick by brick.
“You didn’t have to defend me out there, you know,” Dr. Oliver said.
“Yes I did,” Luke said with a tiny nod.
“Why? I’m not exactly the easiest person to get along with.”
“I know, but . . .” Luke paused, his eyes shifting away. “Sometimes you can really surprise me by being a decent human being.” He looked at the doctor. “Like right now.”
Reid swallowed hard. The wall had fallen and he was now standing, defenseless, on unfamiliar ground. He tried not to look at Luke’s lips, even as he dabbed at the cut with the wet cloth, but there they were, spewing words that made him feel dizzy and even a little uncomfortable. Did Mr. Snyder know who he was talking to? Were these kind words really for him?
Reid pulled the cloth from Luke’s lips, but the young man stopped him by placing a hand over his. The touch electrified Reid’s nerves, made him feel as alive as when he would come out of a successful surgery.
“Mr. Snyder, I-”
“Luke. You can call me Luke.”
The young man’s voice was soft, nearly a whisper. It sent a shudder through Reid’s bones. He had never seen Mr. Snyder this way before-tender, wanting. He imagined the man was often like this with Noah Mayer when they were together, made him think back to when he saw them kissing through the window of Noah’s hospital room. Reid wouldn’t admit it to himself then, but he had felt a pang of jealousy in his heart at the sight of them together, a deep longing and resentment that he couldn’t have what they had because he was . . .well, because he was the way he was.
But now . . .
Now Mr. Snyder was staring at him in that way. Now the young man saw him the way he always wanted to be seen, hard exterior and all-as a decent human being.
Reid leaned forward, painstakingly closing the gap between him and Luke. He heard the man’s breathing stop, their lips impossibly close. Reid turned his lips towards Luke’s cheek, slowly making his way to the man’s ear. Luke’s eyes fluttered to a close as Reid whispered,
“Thank you, Luke.”
Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is my first LuRe fic, so go easy on me! I got the inspiration from Reid's deep rivalry with the yet-unseen Dr. Channing. Rated PG-13 for some offensive language.
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of ATWT. No infringement is intended. I own nothing!
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“So what do you think?” Luke asked as he exited the boardroom with Reid. Since the man barely ever gave so much as a smile, it was hard to tell how the doctor was feeling after his first board meeting with chiefs of staff at the hospital.
“What do I think about what, Mr. Snyder?” Reid asked, his usual sarcastic tone deflecting off Luke. By this time, everyone had gotten used to his manner of speaking.
“The board meeting,” Luke jutted his thumb over his shoulder as he walked down the hospital corridor with the doctor.
“Well, the coffee was stale, but I’ve come to expect that in Oakdale.”
“No, I mean the actual meeting. Not bad for our first time, right?”
Dr. Oliver ignored the double meaning of that sentence and rolled his eyes. The kid’s constant optimism was annoying, like sunshine spewing from a bunny’s mouth. It may have been cute at first, but after a while, you just wanted to take a glue gun to its mouth.
Wait.
Cute?
Reid shook the word from his mind. Bad example. Luke Snyder may have been slightly above average in the looks department, but he was still a spoiled brat.
A spoiled brat whose money helped fund the new neurological wing of this hospital. Damn. Reid would have to do something about these pesky little reminders that got in the way of his prejudice.
“The only way that meeting could have been any more ridiculous, Mr. Snyder, is if someone pulled out a tea set and passed around invisible crumpets on a pink saucer.”
“Aww, what’s a matter?” Luke said with a smile, following the doctor in the locker room. “Are you mad because the board didn’t like some of your ideas?”
“No, I’m mad because you’re in here when I should be getting ready for my rounds.” Reid shooed Luke away with his hand. “Run along.”
Luke laughed and shook his head. “It was nice working with you too, Dr. Oliver.”
“Stop putting words in my mouth, Mr. Snyder,” Reid called out as Luke left the room.
When the door clicked shut and Reid was by himself, he opened his locker and retrieved his scrubs. He paused. The meeting hadn’t really been that bad. And hell-Mr. Snyder had even stuck up for him once in a while when the big-shots dismissed some of his ideas.
But was Luke really doing it for him?
Half of the money going into this project came from that spoiled brat in the first place. Of course he would want to be involved in his investment. Of course he’d stick up for Reid. It was his job, nothing more, nothing less.
And yet . . .
Reid shook his head and got dressed for his rounds. Mr. Snyder only ever did things that benefitted himself. But then, so did Reid. A small smile cracked the contemplative landscape of his face. Maybe they were more alike than he gave credit for.
When Reid finished dressing, clipboard in hand and eager to see who’s life he could improve today, he exited the locker room and saw a man peering into the window of one of his patients.
“Excuse me,” Reid said, tapping the taller man on the shoulder. “Can I help you, sir?”
The man turned. He wore a suit and tie, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back and a cocky smile on his face. Reid frowned.
“Dr. Channing,” he said with a sigh. “Funny seeing you in these parts.”
The doctor chuckled and folded his hands together. “I could say the same thing about you, Reid. Last time I saw you, you were hacking patients’ skulls open with a meat cleaver in Dallas.”
“I use a machete these days, don’t worry.”
Dr. Channing laughed again. “Still got that serpent tongue, I see.”
“What’re you doing here, John?”
Luke stopped as he walked through the corridor to Bob Hughes’ office. He had been chasing the man down ever since the meeting had adjourned, to fill him in on the events since Bob was performing surgery at the time. He saw Dr. Oliver chatting with a tall, too-friendly man with untrustworthy eyes.
“I was coming back from a conference in Minneapolis,” Dr. Channing said. “I heard that Memorial Hospital in Oakdale was getting a new neurological wing, and I thought to myself: who would have the arrogance to pull something like that off in a sleepy, backwoods little town?”
“You know, it’s funny, John-when you’re the best neurological surgeon in the country, people give you all kinds of neat stuff for saving countless lives.”
“Whatever helps you get through the day, Reid.” Channing smiled again, peering at Dr. Oliver in a condescending way that not even Luke was prepared for. “What I can’t figure out, though,” the man continued, “is why you left all your fame and glory in Texas to spray bug repellant on a bunch of yokels who probably couldn’t even spell ‘neurology’.”
Luke stiffened as he watched their repartee from his corner. The man’s arrogance was almost as bad as Dr. Oliver’s, maybe even a little worse. He expected Dr. Oliver to go into the long story of how he had gotten to Oakdale in the first place-that Luke had practically kidnapped him and forced him to stay to perform surgery on someone who didn’t even want to be with him anymore.
“You can say what you want about this town,” Reid said, “but this hospital is in the running to have the best neurological center in the country. And that’s worth everything. So why don’t you go sulk back to your deli slicer in Chicago and if, God forbid, you develop a tumor in that thick skull of yours, I’ll be sure to give you a discount when you stop by for a lobotomy.”
Reid turned, confident in his response. Luke felt himself smile. Dr. Oliver may have been crass and arrogant, but he knew how to tell a person off, especially someone who deserved it. That kind of bravery enflamed a sensation in Luke, a feeling he didn’t have words for. It felt almost like . . . pride.
“These are big words coming from a man like you,” Dr. Channing said.
Reid stopped. Closed his eyes. He turned, knowing that he was letting this jerk get the best of him. If this were the Middle Ages, he would have taken his glove and slapped the arrogant son of a bitch across the face. Pistols at dawn. Unfortunately for Reid, all he had for a weapon was his words.
“And what kind of man am I, John? Other than brilliant, motivated, and competent enough to hold a scalpel?”
“You know what I mean, Reid.” Dr. Channing said.
Luke raised an eyebrow. The man’s unwavering smile was disturbing, that of a serial killer rather than a doctor. Maybe he was both. He looked at Dr. Oliver and the man’s face was serious, not confident like before, but underscored by a twitch of something . . . what was it?
Pain. Anger.
Reid’s eyes faltered, just barely, then he turned away again. “I don’t have time for patty-cake, John. You can see yourself out.”
“You know what keeps me going, Reid?” Dr. Channing called out.
“Your growing addiction to Vicodin?”
“You may be brilliant, sure. But I’m not the one who has to live with the fact that I’m only half a man.”
Reid spun around. “Excuse me?”
“That’s right.” Channing slapped a hand on Reid’s shoulder. “But don’t worry, Reid, I won’t let anyone around here know that they’re building a neurological wing for a fag.”
Reid tensed. He clenched his fist, barbs bared for an actual fight. When he thought he couldn’t control the impulse to clock the man in the face, someone grabbed Channing’s arm, spun him around, and did it for him.
Dr. Channing stumbled back, clutching the left side of his face. Luke stood before him, fist in a tight ball, his face staring at the man as though he wanted to rip his head off. When the stars disappeared from Channing’s eyes, he pointed to Luke.
“What the hell is your problem?” he cried.
“For your information,” Luke yelled back, “that neurological wing is funded by a fag, you bigoted asshole! And if you ever call Dr. Oliver that word again, I will have you murdered!”
“You little piece of-” Channing lunged at Luke. A fist sliced through the air and struck Luke across the face. Reid jumped out of his stunned stupor and stepped between them, holding the doctor off.
“Security!” Reid called. Two security guards rushed from around the corner and apprehended Dr. Channing. “Get him out of here!”
“Get your hands off of me!” Channing yelled as the security guards took him away.
Reid watched the man go until he was around the corner and out of sight. He turned to Luke and the man was touching his bottom lip with the heel of his hand. An emotion erupted in Dr. Oliver, something he only felt when he was on the operating table and things were going wrong. Fear.
Fear turned to anger when he saw Luke pull back blood on his hand.
“Jesus, Snyder, what the hell were you thinking?” Reid yelled. He approached the young man and reached a hand out to asses the injury.
Luke jerked back. “It’s nothing-”
“You’re bleeding. Come on.”
Reid led Luke to an empty room and had him sit on the bed. Reid took a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cloth from the cabinet.
“I’m sorry,” Luke said.
Reid doused a corner of the cloth in the sharp-smelling liquid. “This is going to sting,” he pressed it to Luke’s cut.
Luke hissed a breath through his teeth and Dr. Oliver dabbed the cloth on his sensitive skin. A bruise was already forming along the corner of his mouth, stretching down to his chin. Again Reid felt anger swell in his body. “Hold this,” he said, pressing the cloth to Luke’s cut.
Luke did as he was instructed and kept the cloth on his cut. Reid retrieved another cloth and put more alcohol on it. He took Luke’s hand, the one he had used to punch Channing with, and swiped the cloth across his red knuckles.
“Ouch!”
Luke tried to pull away, but Reid kept his grip. He looked at the young man’s eyes, their faces impossibly close as Reid hovered in front of him. Luke stared back, a silent intensity in them that made Dr. Oliver’s pulse quicken. Reid blinked and focused on Luke’s knuckles again.
“You know, that was a really stupid thing you did.”
Luke lowered his eyes. “I know. I shouldn’t have hit him.”
“What?” Reid caught his eyes. “No, I mean you should have kept your thumb lower and relaxed your fist until you came into contact with his face.”
Luke’s eyebrows raised. “You’re not mad I hit him?”
“Mad? Why would I be? I’ve been wanting to punch that jerk in the face for years. He’s a bigot and a third-rate doctor.”
A laugh escaped Luke. “Aren’t you worried about what he’ll do?”
“He’ll go back to Chicago, cry about it to his interns, and, if I’m lucky, he’ll have me barred from practicing in that city.”
Though it hurt his face, Luke smiled softly. “I heard about what you said . . . when you were talking about Oakdale.”
Reid stopped and looked at Luke.
“Thank you for not trashing my town.” Luke rolled his eyes. “You know, anymore than you usually do.”
“I have high hopes for this town, Mr. Snyder,” Reid said, tending to Luke’s hand again. “I would have done the same for any sleepy old hamlet that was happening to build a state-of-the-art neurological center.”
Luke laughed again, but this time at a price. “Ow, ow.” He felt the opening of his cut widen.
“Let me see,” Reid took the cloth from Luke’s lip and examined the raw flesh. The bleeding had already stopped, and he probably wouldn’t need stitches. Reid felt a strange sense of relief was over him at the idea of Luke’s lips remaining intact, those damn lips that were at once beautiful and terribly annoying. He raised his eyes and caught Luke staring at him. “What?” he asked.
“You’re being nice,” Luke said simply.
Reid realized his lips were parted slightly and closed them. He suddenly felt vulnerable and out of place, the mere inches separating the gap between him and Luke’s faces was stifling. The wall was crumbling, he could feel it being chipped away in his body brick by brick.
“You didn’t have to defend me out there, you know,” Dr. Oliver said.
“Yes I did,” Luke said with a tiny nod.
“Why? I’m not exactly the easiest person to get along with.”
“I know, but . . .” Luke paused, his eyes shifting away. “Sometimes you can really surprise me by being a decent human being.” He looked at the doctor. “Like right now.”
Reid swallowed hard. The wall had fallen and he was now standing, defenseless, on unfamiliar ground. He tried not to look at Luke’s lips, even as he dabbed at the cut with the wet cloth, but there they were, spewing words that made him feel dizzy and even a little uncomfortable. Did Mr. Snyder know who he was talking to? Were these kind words really for him?
Reid pulled the cloth from Luke’s lips, but the young man stopped him by placing a hand over his. The touch electrified Reid’s nerves, made him feel as alive as when he would come out of a successful surgery.
“Mr. Snyder, I-”
“Luke. You can call me Luke.”
The young man’s voice was soft, nearly a whisper. It sent a shudder through Reid’s bones. He had never seen Mr. Snyder this way before-tender, wanting. He imagined the man was often like this with Noah Mayer when they were together, made him think back to when he saw them kissing through the window of Noah’s hospital room. Reid wouldn’t admit it to himself then, but he had felt a pang of jealousy in his heart at the sight of them together, a deep longing and resentment that he couldn’t have what they had because he was . . .well, because he was the way he was.
But now . . .
Now Mr. Snyder was staring at him in that way. Now the young man saw him the way he always wanted to be seen, hard exterior and all-as a decent human being.
Reid leaned forward, painstakingly closing the gap between him and Luke. He heard the man’s breathing stop, their lips impossibly close. Reid turned his lips towards Luke’s cheek, slowly making his way to the man’s ear. Luke’s eyes fluttered to a close as Reid whispered,
“Thank you, Luke.”