The library was his favourite place on the ship. It was there that the incubus was most often playing his violin, staring into the fire, or eyes closed. The pain was certainly less now that he could feast from his Time Lord hybrid-lover. But he still found himself always on the edge of hunger. It was a strange symbiosis they had developed.
He couldn’t help, however, to feel some kind of dullness at the edge of his paranoia. Perhaps it was two thousand years of mostly suffering. Riordan simply didn’t trust peace to last. That why it came as no surprise when the ship began wailing in his mind so loudly that he dropped his violin to the table and grasped his head, falling to his knees.