Fics like A spark, however small, is still a spark.

"Of all the places," Alastor mutters through gritted teeth. He is not sentimental. He has never been. Nostalgia is a weakness reserved for lesser minds, for those who believe the past holds them rather than the other way around. Yet, his smile tightens. Annoyance flares honed and immediate, curling hot in his chest. Vox's face rises uninvited in his mind. Grinning screen, static laughter, hands too careful, attention too constant. The memory of wires and strings follows close behind, of being maneuvered, shocked and jerked around, in a way he hadn't agreed on. Infuriating. And it's outrageously uncomfortable too, the sudden awareness of something old stirring where it should have stayed buried. Or: Alastor is free, Vox is angry, humiliated, and somehow still breathing. They are, apparently, done with each other for good, but a bar, a piano, and far too much history stand in the way. The past, unfortunately, still has excellent timing.

Fics like A spark, however small, is still a spark.

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