[Quentin huffs a chuckle out through his nose at her joke.]
Don't worry, your lower back is safe this time.
[Which answers his side of the question well enough, but just in case it doesn't:]
It's the only thing we've ever done where we haven't hated each other's guts and was pretty damn incredible to boot, so yeah. I'm down. As long as it's just, you know. Fun. For both of us. And, uh, speaking of.
[Aaand now comes the less easy stuff. Quentin sighs and adjusts his glasses. What he has to say is going to be unpleasant. For both of them. As all Phoebe-related matters are. It also occurs to him that, being a hivemind, Sophie may already know what Phoebe's end of what he's about to say, but. Whatever. Sophie wants to be treated like an individual, right? Well here goes.]
When Phoebe dumped me [no point in using any euphemisms here] she said—more or less—that I cared too much. I saw a future with her. She didn't. Which, you know. Happens. C'est la vie, right?
[He shakes his head, rolling his eyes at himself. God, Quire, keep simping to the girl you just slept with about her sister you still have feelings for, why don't you? That's not super weird or pathetic or anything.]
Whatever. Point is, I need you to stop that from happening again. Stop me. From... caring too much or whatever.
[He cringes at himself briefly but soldiers on. Too late to turn back now. Quentin squares his jaw stubbornly and makes eye contact with her for this last bit.]
Means no corny shit, okay? Nicknames, holding hands, cute dates, all that baloney. We fuck when we wanna, but when we're not, we're... normal. Just without hating each other's guts. Yeah?
no subject
Don't worry, your lower back is safe this time.
[Which answers his side of the question well enough, but just in case it doesn't:]
It's the only thing we've ever done where we haven't hated each other's guts and was pretty damn incredible to boot, so yeah. I'm down. As long as it's just, you know. Fun. For both of us. And, uh, speaking of.
[Aaand now comes the less easy stuff. Quentin sighs and adjusts his glasses. What he has to say is going to be unpleasant. For both of them. As all Phoebe-related matters are. It also occurs to him that, being a hivemind, Sophie may already know what Phoebe's end of what he's about to say, but. Whatever. Sophie wants to be treated like an individual, right? Well here goes.]
When Phoebe dumped me [no point in using any euphemisms here] she said—more or less—that I cared too much. I saw a future with her. She didn't. Which, you know. Happens. C'est la vie, right?
[He shakes his head, rolling his eyes at himself. God, Quire, keep simping to the girl you just slept with about her sister you still have feelings for, why don't you? That's not super weird or pathetic or anything.]
Whatever. Point is, I need you to stop that from happening again. Stop me. From... caring too much or whatever.
[He cringes at himself briefly but soldiers on. Too late to turn back now. Quentin squares his jaw stubbornly and makes eye contact with her for this last bit.]
Means no corny shit, okay? Nicknames, holding hands, cute dates, all that baloney. We fuck when we wanna, but when we're not, we're... normal. Just without hating each other's guts. Yeah?