Chapter 4

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“You are such a horn dog.”

“Owh!” John Turner rubbed his shoulder. “What?”

Fine, so he ogled the doctor when he left the room. His grandmother would have admired a man who carried himself with such confidence. John sure did. At least until Bobby leaned over and slapped him on the arm, apparently lacking the strength for his usual punch.

“You were checking him out,” Bobby wheezed the accusation, pressing his hand tighter against his chest.

“Who?” John widened his eyes and searched his repertoire of facial expressions for shocked innocence. He probably failed, but what the hell.

“The doctor, what’s-his-name?”

“Davros,” The response spilled out in a rush and John was busted. “His name was Davros.” He rubbed his palms across his thighs, the worn denim smooth and grounding. The two syllables sounded good on his lips. Solid. A promise of exceptional things to come.