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Summary
"You sounded a bit like a professor I had back in college," he says, and Izzy swears he sees a vague hint of blush on Lucius' exposed face. Then again, it is early December, and they are outside. "She had this old tin thermos full of soup with her at literally all times, like a—"
"Security blanket," Izzy finishes for him. How often had Ed accused him of just that. He tries not to think about the last time he saw it, saw Ed, saw the anger… "Like a bit of home wherever you go," he says instead.
"Don't tell me you know Dr. Teach!" Izzy does his best not to wince. "I think her first name was Val?" Lucius asks in earnest, finally pulling off his mask.
"Fucking hell," Izzy says. "It's you."
***
Izzy Hands is still healing from the wounds of his old life, dealing with poor self-esteem and vicious bouts of anxiety. At the suggestion of his therapist, he volunteers to be a life drawing model for a local artist's class. Dr. Boodhari failed to mention what to do if Izzy developed feelings for the artist, however, let alone how to handle a love eagerly reciprocated by a former student.