[Of fucking course he's going to be like that about it. Can't ever just make it easy, huh, Keller? Take the goddamn olive branch? No, of course not. Jerk. Quentin makes sure to sigh his most exhausted mental sigh before he answers.]
/Fine, have it your way./
[Naturally, Quentin finds him without any trouble, flying up to land on the rooftop nearby and immediately cramming his hands into his jacket pockets. Out of arm's length, of course. For all that "arm's length" means anything when you're dealing with a telekinetic whose hands aren't attached to his wrists. But then, it's not like Julian's ever thrown his hands out to grab Quentin or anything. Yet.
Whatever. He's here now, and it is at this point where it becomes obvious that Quentin did not in fact arrange this meeting with a prepared script. Well. That's not entirely true. He had... a topic. Points to hit. Ideas. Just not, you know... a starter. He opens his mouth. And closes it. Purses his lips in thought. And then shrugs.]
Eh, fuck it.
[He cocks his head and narrows his eyes at Julian.]
( he could eat his sandwich at a normal pace like a normal person, but julian knows quentin's on his way, so he. stuffs most of it into his mouth to finish it off, because he knows damn well there's no way he's going to finish it once he's here. chances are high it'll end up thrown at quire's face when he shows up and opens his mouth.
so when quentin gets up to the roof, julian's finishing off the last bit of his sandwich, frown already obvious around the breadcrumbs. eyes narrow, but he doesn't offer any opening comments. quentin wanted to meet, that makes this his responsibility.
even if julian knows damn well how petty and stupid that reasoning is. he's going with it regardless, because it isn't as if this is a conversation he wanted to have currently. although he quickly regrets that decision when he opens his mouth and asks the stupidest question. okay. maybe it's less stupid, more it definitely is not a question julian wanted directed his way. especially not now.
he swallows the rest of his sandwich. opens his mouth. closes it. opens it again. closes it. give him a minute. )
What, no fucking apology for the bullshit you started? Obviously I'm straight. Why's that even a question?
[Quick question: is it ethical to lobotomize someone just because they're really fucking stupid? Asking for a friend. Probably, right? Darn. But come on, it's not like Keller is using his fucking brain. He'd barely even notice if it was fried. Quentin takes one hand out of his pocket to point accusingly at Julian.]
Don't play dumb, you know exactly why.
[Yeah, ignoring that "apology" part. Quentin can only handle so much buffoonery per day. He's only one man.
Unfortunately, the thing is? There's a pretty good goddamn chance Julian doesn't know why. Quentin pinches the bridge of his nose with an irritated growl. Okay. It's okay. He can do this. He's calm, he's mature, he's going to be good and polite and all that other bullshit and—
Wait. You know what? No. No! Fuck that. Keller's sure as hell not pulling any punches, so why should Quentin? He spreads his arms out, utterly exasperated.]
Why the hell have you been—[Fuck, there's not really much better word to call it, is there? Call a spade a spade.]—flirting with me, man?
( he does not know why, actually. it's why quentin's stupid question and his whole you know bullshit is really starting to piss him off. if he knew, he wouldn't say he doesn't. if he thought it was obvious enough, julian'd just figure it out. unfortunately for julian specifically, quire's clearly decided what it is already and has just opted to stick with whatever stupid idea is in his thick skull.
whatever.
there's no apology, but julian doesn't know why he expected one anyway. of course quire's not going to say he's sorry for starting shit. why would he?
even worse: he's starting more shit. )
Flirting? With you? Are you fucking hallucinating, man? Even if I wasn't straight, you're the last goddamn person I'd ever put on my list.
[Is he hallucinating? He's pretty damn sure he's not, but... Well, okay, look. Maybe flirting wasn't exactly the right word. It's more like... he gets just close enough to that line to goad Quentin into doing what Quentin does: he escalates. Which in this case, means. Well.
Christ. What the hell is happening right now? Whatever it is, Quentin hates it. He's throwing himself into the mouth of a terrible monster the first chance he gets. Maybe then his suffering will end. Except there's no giant hungry monsters around right now—unfortunately—which means he's stuck. With this... whatever the fuck this is.
And anyway wait hold on no he's not hallucinating because Magik saw it. She's the one who called it out in the first damn place! Fuck this son of a bitch trying to gaslight him. Quentin throws his arms into the air.]
Fuck, fine, okay! It's not on me to—I dunno, de-closet you. On, you know, the off chance you're going through something. Whatever, dude, sexuality is a spectrum and everyone's on their own journey blah blah fuckity blah. Not my goddamn problem.
[And more pointing. He's very expressive, okay. Don't judge him.]
But you said I was—and I quote—"making eyes" at you. And the whole "wishful thinking" bullcrap. So how about you explain that to me, big guy?
( quentin's pointing, and now julian's raising his arms to also point right at him. there's plenty of distance between them, he isn't close enough to jab fingers into his chest which is probably just as well, considering he would be if there were just a few less steps in between them.
instead they just. both have this aggressive pointing bullshit going on. which is whatever. at least no one else is around to witness this. )
You keep flirting with me then starting crap with me and I don't know what the hell it is you want - do you want to fight? Do you want me to shove you over?! Do you just want an excuse to whine at four in the fucking morning in the kitchen before you go back to Sophie? Or are you just trying to piss me off to see how hard you can push until I lose my shit, because you're already riding that line, asshole, and neither of us wants to see where we end up after!
[Honestly, thank fuck nobody is around to witness this. Any of this. The entire conversation is an unmitigated, undeniable disaster. A veritable clusterfuck.
Quentin visibly falters at Keller's accusation. Because... okay, look. Technically he's not wrong. Sure, he could argue that yeah, that's how Quentin talks, idiot. Because it is. Provocative, vulgar bullshit? That's Quentin Quire's bread and butter. Is it wishful thinking? He didn't think so, but... Ugh. Quentin looks to the side with a scowl, hunching his shoulders.
Fortunately, he's saved from having to ponder that any further by Keller going on some stupid rant about blah blah blah I'm so mean and tough and scary and you live to get punched by me because you're a pathetic little rat boy. Yawn. He's heard it before a million times. Get some new material, Keller. Except... what was that about a kitchen at four in the morning?? He looks up suddenly, brows furrowed.]
( he doesn't get why this is so hard to understand. but it is quentin quire, so. maybe it's not as surprising as he had originally suspected. he asks why and julian just - squints at him. drops his hands so he's no longer pointing, because pointing while trying to figure out what the hell this guy is going on about probably isn't helping much if at all. )
You called me out to talk about your problems like we were pals until you decided to come back around and piss me off again. ( at least he's not yelling anymore. even if his voice is still loud, and he still sounds pretty pissed off. ) Like you were intentionally getting under my skin so next time you decided to start shit it'd just piss me off more.
[Okay, see, now we're getting somewhere. Where? Who the hell knows. But they're not just yelling "nuh uh" "yeah huh" until the heat death of the universe, so that's... progress? It's something. And the gears in Quentin's head are turning now that Keller's decided to very helpfully not yell complete nonsense, trying to make sense of what kind of point the guy's making. He tilts his head to the side with a skeptical curl of his lip.]
Wait. Hold on. Do you—so... today. The kitchen. You think I'm out to get all chummy with you for... what? Ammo? Is that what's going on here?
( it's a confused response in a very confused voice because. he doesn't know what the hell quire is after and that's basically the whole problem here. because he can't read him, doesn't know what he wants, doesn't know what the hell to do with the guy who keeps flirting or not flirting with him and being a dick about everything because he is just - just like that?
okay. maybe he should know what to do, because that's julian's whole thing also. he's just less of a smarmy little prick about it. )
I don't know what the hell you want from me! Do you even know!
[... Okay, maybe Keller has a point. Maybe. Quentin huffs, turning away to pace anxiously.]
Look, we both remember all the shit from that night, right? Right. No need to rehash. Great. Ever since all of, you know, that, it just—god, fuck, this is stupid. What's the fucking point?
[Quentin stops, flashes Julian a glare and an eyeroll, and shrugs aggressively.]
All that's gonna happen is I tell you that for a straight guy you sure as hell seem to like it when I flirt with you, so maybe jot that down, and then you're going to get all pissy and "yeah right you're the last person in the world I'd want flirting with me blah blah blah, also please ignore that I'm the loneliest motherfucker in mutant history, it's totally a secret and nobody knows, including the one guy I've had a whole goddamn conversation about it with". It's old, it's stupid, and I'm bored. Waste of my precious goddamn time.
( quentin paces, and julian just stays right where he's at. not moving any closer, not raising hands to point fingers at him again or anything, just - stays where he's at, watching quentin move around like he's - nervous? ha. )
So you admit you've been flirting with me.
( see, he knew it. not that it wasn't obvious before quentin admitted to it, but now he has just - said it out loud. that he's flirting with julian. that clearly julian isn't hallucinating because it's right fucking there and this asshole knows it. dick. but he does feel slightly better now knowing that quentin knows exactly what he's doing so he's - got that going for him, at least.
not that it's helping him with anything here, aside from being able to say ha i knew it. )
You're the one who wanted to talk, asshole. And how the hell do I seem to like it when you flirt with me? You're the one who always starts shit.
Uh, I dunno, maybe "try asking politely" or—or whatever the fuck was going on at the pool way back when or—wait. Hold the fuck up.
[Quentin stops short because—what was that??? The "you admit it" part just registered in his brain, derailing every train of thought he was going down up to that point. He... admits it? He admits?? It????? Quentin stares at Julian in baffled disbelief. Is he really that fucking stupid? Or does he just not remember?]
I offered you a helping hand, you moron. You know? When I pulled that little thought fragment out of your brain? Ring any fucking bells?
[He points emphatically at his own head, as though an illustration is necessary.]
How about you tell me what the hell you thought that meant?
( what happened to not mentioning that ever again?
technically speaking, julian brought up the whole quentin flirting with him thing first, but quentin's the one that wanted to meet up and was accusing julian of flirting with him and so this is somehow his fault and definitely not at all julian's.
there's a scowl on his face, but, )
Was that before or after you and Sophie started getting into bullshit?
[Look. If there's an elephant in the room, Quentin has to mention it. He's just gotta. It's a compulsion. A way of life. Secrets secrets are no fun, secrets secrets hurt someone.
... Unless they're his in which case what elephant.
But this one isn't. Which means he's gonna yap about it.
Julian is scowling and diverts to—what else?—the Sophie situation. Quentin rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest.]
Before. Obviously. It was before we kinda figured our shit out. Ish. Pool was after, in case you're curious. Why?
( this is the worst conversation he's ever had in his entire life because even julian doesn't quite know where he's going with it, which just makes it even more messy. because fuck quentin quire for causing all this bullshit but also how dare he?
arms raise, almost as if he's going to cross them over his chest before he realizes quentin just did that and instead of coming across as some kind of disappointed copy-cat, julian puts a hand on his hip, raising a brow. )
So you're, what, flirting with me then immediately going off to fuck around with Sophie?
( rude? it's not like he and sophie are dating-dating. so it probably not actually a big deal. but also? fucked to offer julian a hand then go fuck someone else. )
[What the hell is this conversation? And what did Quentin do to deserve it? Nothing, that's what! Okay, maybe something. But still!
There was a brief pause in the yelling, but guess what, it's back now. Quentin uncrosses his arms to gesture sharply at Julian with both hands.]
Are you serious, dude? Oh. Yeah. My bad. Next time I'll double-check with the straight guy who thought a buzzed, half-formed idea at me before I stumble into a weird, stupid situationship with my ex's identical sister that only happened because every single fucking conversation we try to have goes to shit.
It's not about how I feel about any of it, asshole.
( he has no idea where the hell this conversation has fucked off to. but it's too late, they're in it, and quentin's started yelling again so julian starts up again also, leaning just a little with a hand raised to point straight at quentin again. )
It's a dick move toward Sophie regardless of who you were messing around with outside of her. Maybe if you weren't such a fucked up mess you'd figure out how to just talk to people!
[Quentin glowers at that pointing finger. Just where the hell does Keller get off accusing him of shit? It's absurd. Outlandish! Offensive! So much so that he decides to point back even more aggressively. That'll show him! Somehow.]
Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass for a second you'd hear what I'm actually fucking saying!
[And what is he saying? Uh, well. It's obvious! Duh! Don't even need to explain it. Yep.]
Fuck off with your "sneaking around behind Sophie's back" accusations, because you and I both know that ain't true. Last time was on the public goddamn network, and newsflash, genius, she's got eyes. This is your stupid crisis, not mine!
( quentin's pointing aggressively now? guess he needs to point back even more aggressively despite the fact they're standing - what, just barely out of arm's reach? jesus christ. he doesn't even know what he's doing anymore but he's still doing it because. they're here. and julian doesn't know where he's supposed to get off this ride so obviously that means he just has to stay on it until he finds a way to win. )
You're the one who started crap on the network! You're the one who turned this into a whole thing! This is your crisis, not mine!
[Holy shit, he's going to have an aneurysm. This is it. His latest death. His massive amazing incredible brain is going to fucking spontaneously combust due to exposure to too much raw stupidity. Courtesy of one Julian Keller. Well, everybody, it was a good run. So long and thanks for all the fish.
Or, you know, he could just vaporize Keller's brain, but. Eh. Honestly, who knows if there's anything up there. Could be a matter plus anti-matter situation. Create a black hole that swallows everyone and destroys the world.
... Or he could, you know. Let it go. Calm down. Be reasonable. But that's. So. Haaard. Ugh ugh ugh.
Okay. Alright. Whatever. He'll do it. But only for the sake of saving the world and, more importantly, himself. Quentin forces himself to lower his hand, a process that judging by the grimace on his face takes significant effort, and breathes harshly out through his nose. Straightens his shoulders. Puts two fingers to his temple.]
Fine. You want me to tell Sophie? Good thing I've got a direct line. Should I get her blessing just to ogle from afar, make a few suggestive comments? Or you think I should ask her for any makeout tips? You know, since her being informed is apparently your biggest concern.
( he feels like there was a point he was trying to make here and it's gotten completely lost under the yelling and bitching and pointing and - whatever the fuck this is, hell if julian knows. he's usually better at this, isn't he? usually. not at handling quire, to hell with that, but with handling anyone else. )
I - ( i what? that's not what he meant? because it isn't. i don't know how the hell to answer your stupidity? because he doesn't. but to be fair, he doesn't know what the hell either of them are going on about at this point either so it's.
hell.
is he more pissed at himself or at quire at this point? who the fuck knows. his hand drops too, because there's no point in making it worse even if he feels the instinctual need to shove quire over now.
a process that makes him realize also that he's mirroring the energy quire's giving off which just pisses him off more. julian'll do it intentionally sometimes, but this isn't that. maybe he should just push him over. just for that.)
You know what? I don't care. Do whatever the hell you want.
( he's resisting the urge to shove still. would it make him feel better? yes. but it'd also escalate - all of this. )
[Quentin lowers his hand from his temple and tries not to look too haughty about it. He fails, but you know. It's the thought that counts. At least he successfully resists the urge to make this worse, which he could very easily do. So hey, got that going for them. He sighs and rubs his hand over his forehead.]
What I want is for you to, I dunno. Be honest with me? Or... you know, with yourself, at least. Fuck, that's corny. Hang on.
[He grimaces and scratches his scalp for a moment in thought.]
Look, man, I get it. You're pissed the fuck off for—reasons, doesn't matter, and that shit's gotta go somewhere. So you pick some place—or some places—and bam, that's where the shit goes. You know? People, concepts, situations... whatever. It just, well.
[He looks up and to the left briefly before looking purposefully back at Julian, though he instinctively shoves his hands back into his pockets with a shrug. 50/50 shot that the asshole is receptive to all this blather or if he just gets defensive and mad. Hopefully Quentin's luck is good today, but you never know.]
Shit doesn't always go to the best places. You feel?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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/Fine, have it your way./
[Naturally, Quentin finds him without any trouble, flying up to land on the rooftop nearby and immediately cramming his hands into his jacket pockets. Out of arm's length, of course. For all that "arm's length" means anything when you're dealing with a telekinetic whose hands aren't attached to his wrists. But then, it's not like Julian's ever thrown his hands out to grab Quentin or anything. Yet.
Whatever. He's here now, and it is at this point where it becomes obvious that Quentin did not in fact arrange this meeting with a prepared script. Well. That's not entirely true. He had... a topic. Points to hit. Ideas. Just not, you know... a starter. He opens his mouth. And closes it. Purses his lips in thought. And then shrugs.]
Eh, fuck it.
[He cocks his head and narrows his eyes at Julian.]
So are you straight or not?
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so when quentin gets up to the roof, julian's finishing off the last bit of his sandwich, frown already obvious around the breadcrumbs. eyes narrow, but he doesn't offer any opening comments. quentin wanted to meet, that makes this his responsibility.
even if julian knows damn well how petty and stupid that reasoning is. he's going with it regardless, because it isn't as if this is a conversation he wanted to have currently. although he quickly regrets that decision when he opens his mouth and asks the stupidest question. okay. maybe it's less stupid, more it definitely is not a question julian wanted directed his way. especially not now.
he swallows the rest of his sandwich. opens his mouth. closes it. opens it again. closes it. give him a minute. )
What, no fucking apology for the bullshit you started? Obviously I'm straight. Why's that even a question?
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Don't play dumb, you know exactly why.
[Yeah, ignoring that "apology" part. Quentin can only handle so much buffoonery per day. He's only one man.
Unfortunately, the thing is? There's a pretty good goddamn chance Julian doesn't know why. Quentin pinches the bridge of his nose with an irritated growl. Okay. It's okay. He can do this. He's calm, he's mature, he's going to be good and polite and all that other bullshit and—
Wait. You know what? No. No! Fuck that. Keller's sure as hell not pulling any punches, so why should Quentin? He spreads his arms out, utterly exasperated.]
Why the hell have you been—[Fuck, there's not really much better word to call it, is there? Call a spade a spade.]—flirting with me, man?
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whatever.
there's no apology, but julian doesn't know why he expected one anyway. of course quire's not going to say he's sorry for starting shit. why would he?
even worse: he's starting more shit. )
Flirting? With you? Are you fucking hallucinating, man? Even if I wasn't straight, you're the last goddamn person I'd ever put on my list.
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Christ. What the hell is happening right now? Whatever it is, Quentin hates it. He's throwing himself into the mouth of a terrible monster the first chance he gets. Maybe then his suffering will end. Except there's no giant hungry monsters around right now—unfortunately—which means he's stuck. With this... whatever the fuck this is.
And anyway wait hold on no he's not hallucinating because Magik saw it. She's the one who called it out in the first damn place! Fuck this son of a bitch trying to gaslight him. Quentin throws his arms into the air.]
Fuck, fine, okay! It's not on me to—I dunno, de-closet you. On, you know, the off chance you're going through something. Whatever, dude, sexuality is a spectrum and everyone's on their own journey blah blah fuckity blah. Not my goddamn problem.
[And more pointing. He's very expressive, okay. Don't judge him.]
But you said I was—and I quote—"making eyes" at you. And the whole "wishful thinking" bullcrap. So how about you explain that to me, big guy?
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( quentin's pointing, and now julian's raising his arms to also point right at him. there's plenty of distance between them, he isn't close enough to jab fingers into his chest which is probably just as well, considering he would be if there were just a few less steps in between them.
instead they just. both have this aggressive pointing bullshit going on. which is whatever. at least no one else is around to witness this. )
You keep flirting with me then starting crap with me and I don't know what the hell it is you want - do you want to fight? Do you want me to shove you over?! Do you just want an excuse to whine at four in the fucking morning in the kitchen before you go back to Sophie? Or are you just trying to piss me off to see how hard you can push until I lose my shit, because you're already riding that line, asshole, and neither of us wants to see where we end up after!
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Quentin visibly falters at Keller's accusation. Because... okay, look. Technically he's not wrong. Sure, he could argue that yeah, that's how Quentin talks, idiot. Because it is. Provocative, vulgar bullshit? That's Quentin Quire's bread and butter. Is it wishful thinking? He didn't think so, but... Ugh. Quentin looks to the side with a scowl, hunching his shoulders.
Fortunately, he's saved from having to ponder that any further by Keller going on some stupid rant about blah blah blah I'm so mean and tough and scary and you live to get punched by me because you're a pathetic little rat boy. Yawn. He's heard it before a million times. Get some new material, Keller. Except... what was that about a kitchen at four in the morning?? He looks up suddenly, brows furrowed.]
Why'd you say that? About the kitchen.
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You called me out to talk about your problems like we were pals until you decided to come back around and piss me off again. ( at least he's not yelling anymore. even if his voice is still loud, and he still sounds pretty pissed off. ) Like you were intentionally getting under my skin so next time you decided to start shit it'd just piss me off more.
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Wait. Hold on. Do you—so... today. The kitchen. You think I'm out to get all chummy with you for... what? Ammo? Is that what's going on here?
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( it's a confused response in a very confused voice because. he doesn't know what the hell quire is after and that's basically the whole problem here. because he can't read him, doesn't know what he wants, doesn't know what the hell to do with the guy who keeps flirting or not flirting with him and being a dick about everything because he is just - just like that?
okay. maybe he should know what to do, because that's julian's whole thing also. he's just less of a smarmy little prick about it. )
I don't know what the hell you want from me! Do you even know!
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[... Okay, maybe Keller has a point. Maybe. Quentin huffs, turning away to pace anxiously.]
Look, we both remember all the shit from that night, right? Right. No need to rehash. Great. Ever since all of, you know, that, it just—god, fuck, this is stupid. What's the fucking point?
[Quentin stops, flashes Julian a glare and an eyeroll, and shrugs aggressively.]
All that's gonna happen is I tell you that for a straight guy you sure as hell seem to like it when I flirt with you, so maybe jot that down, and then you're going to get all pissy and "yeah right you're the last person in the world I'd want flirting with me blah blah blah, also please ignore that I'm the loneliest motherfucker in mutant history, it's totally a secret and nobody knows, including the one guy I've had a whole goddamn conversation about it with". It's old, it's stupid, and I'm bored. Waste of my precious goddamn time.
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So you admit you've been flirting with me.
( see, he knew it. not that it wasn't obvious before quentin admitted to it, but now he has just - said it out loud. that he's flirting with julian. that clearly julian isn't hallucinating because it's right fucking there and this asshole knows it. dick. but he does feel slightly better now knowing that quentin knows exactly what he's doing so he's - got that going for him, at least.
not that it's helping him with anything here, aside from being able to say ha i knew it. )
You're the one who wanted to talk, asshole. And how the hell do I seem to like it when you flirt with me? You're the one who always starts shit.
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[Quentin stops short because—what was that??? The "you admit it" part just registered in his brain, derailing every train of thought he was going down up to that point. He... admits it? He admits?? It????? Quentin stares at Julian in baffled disbelief. Is he really that fucking stupid? Or does he just not remember?]
I offered you a helping hand, you moron. You know? When I pulled that little thought fragment out of your brain? Ring any fucking bells?
[He points emphatically at his own head, as though an illustration is necessary.]
How about you tell me what the hell you thought that meant?
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technically speaking, julian brought up the whole quentin flirting with him thing first, but quentin's the one that wanted to meet up and was accusing julian of flirting with him and so this is somehow his fault and definitely not at all julian's.
there's a scowl on his face, but, )
Was that before or after you and Sophie started getting into bullshit?
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... Unless they're his in which case what elephant.
But this one isn't. Which means he's gonna yap about it.
Julian is scowling and diverts to—what else?—the Sophie situation. Quentin rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest.]
Before. Obviously. It was before we kinda figured our shit out. Ish. Pool was after, in case you're curious. Why?
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arms raise, almost as if he's going to cross them over his chest before he realizes quentin just did that and instead of coming across as some kind of disappointed copy-cat, julian puts a hand on his hip, raising a brow. )
So you're, what, flirting with me then immediately going off to fuck around with Sophie?
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Anyway. Quentin narrows his eyes. Awfully sus question there, Jules.]
If you're straight then why's it matter?
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( rude? it's not like he and sophie are dating-dating. so it probably not actually a big deal. but also? fucked to offer julian a hand then go fuck someone else. )
Because you're not.
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There was a brief pause in the yelling, but guess what, it's back now. Quentin uncrosses his arms to gesture sharply at Julian with both hands.]
Are you serious, dude? Oh. Yeah. My bad. Next time I'll double-check with the straight guy who thought a buzzed, half-formed idea at me before I stumble into a weird, stupid situationship with my ex's identical sister that only happened because every single fucking conversation we try to have goes to shit.
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( he has no idea where the hell this conversation has fucked off to. but it's too late, they're in it, and quentin's started yelling again so julian starts up again also, leaning just a little with a hand raised to point straight at quentin again. )
It's a dick move toward Sophie regardless of who you were messing around with outside of her. Maybe if you weren't such a fucked up mess you'd figure out how to just talk to people!
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Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass for a second you'd hear what I'm actually fucking saying!
[And what is he saying? Uh, well. It's obvious! Duh! Don't even need to explain it. Yep.]
Fuck off with your "sneaking around behind Sophie's back" accusations, because you and I both know that ain't true. Last time was on the public goddamn network, and newsflash, genius, she's got eyes. This is your stupid crisis, not mine!
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( quentin's pointing aggressively now? guess he needs to point back even more aggressively despite the fact they're standing - what, just barely out of arm's reach? jesus christ. he doesn't even know what he's doing anymore but he's still doing it because. they're here. and julian doesn't know where he's supposed to get off this ride so obviously that means he just has to stay on it until he finds a way to win. )
You're the one who started crap on the network! You're the one who turned this into a whole thing! This is your crisis, not mine!
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Or, you know, he could just vaporize Keller's brain, but. Eh. Honestly, who knows if there's anything up there. Could be a matter plus anti-matter situation. Create a black hole that swallows everyone and destroys the world.
... Or he could, you know. Let it go. Calm down. Be reasonable. But that's. So. Haaard. Ugh ugh ugh.
Okay. Alright. Whatever. He'll do it. But only for the sake of saving the world and, more importantly, himself. Quentin forces himself to lower his hand, a process that judging by the grimace on his face takes significant effort, and breathes harshly out through his nose. Straightens his shoulders. Puts two fingers to his temple.]
Fine. You want me to tell Sophie? Good thing I've got a direct line. Should I get her blessing just to ogle from afar, make a few suggestive comments? Or you think I should ask her for any makeout tips? You know, since her being informed is apparently your biggest concern.
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I - ( i what? that's not what he meant? because it isn't. i don't know how the hell to answer your stupidity? because he doesn't. but to be fair, he doesn't know what the hell either of them are going on about at this point either so it's.
hell.
is he more pissed at himself or at quire at this point? who the fuck knows. his hand drops too, because there's no point in making it worse even if he feels the instinctual need to shove quire over now.
a process that makes him realize also that he's mirroring the energy quire's giving off which just pisses him off more. julian'll do it intentionally sometimes, but this isn't that. maybe he should just push him over. just for that.)
You know what? I don't care. Do whatever the hell you want.
( he's resisting the urge to shove still. would it make him feel better? yes. but it'd also escalate - all of this. )
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What I want is for you to, I dunno. Be honest with me? Or... you know, with yourself, at least. Fuck, that's corny. Hang on.
[He grimaces and scratches his scalp for a moment in thought.]
Look, man, I get it. You're pissed the fuck off for—reasons, doesn't matter, and that shit's gotta go somewhere. So you pick some place—or some places—and bam, that's where the shit goes. You know? People, concepts, situations... whatever. It just, well.
[He looks up and to the left briefly before looking purposefully back at Julian, though he instinctively shoves his hands back into his pockets with a shrug. 50/50 shot that the asshole is receptive to all this blather or if he just gets defensive and mad. Hopefully Quentin's luck is good today, but you never know.]
Shit doesn't always go to the best places. You feel?
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cw: suicidal ideation
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