Dean stayed where he was for a second longer, staring at Lucas with the awful sensation of something inside him clicking into place with far more force than he wanted.
People would use him.
And would not be the way Arion or anyone else did until now.
His stomach turned.
Trevor, who had apparently decided Dean had reached his daily quota of emotional collapse for one afternoon, stood first. "You do not need to solve every implication tonight."
Dean looked at him flatly. "That has never once stopped my brain."
"No," Trevor said. "Unfortunately, we're all aware."
Lucas rose more slowly. The sharpness in his face had not disappeared, but it had changed shape again, moving away from reprimand and into something more controlled, more precise. "Sit with it. Then talk to Arion before you invent six disasters worse than the real one."
Dean opened his mouth.
Lucas pointed at him. "Before."
Dean shut it again.
