[She's right. This shit is getting old. But talking to her? Sophie Cuckoo? About his feelings? No. Even if he had the words—which he doesn't, honestly—he wouldn't expect her to understand. He doesn't understand most of this mess. At best, he'd get derision. At worst, pity.
Quentin looks down at the book in her hand like touching it would instantly melt his skin off. Then he steps away, turning his back toward her to idly inspect some other shelves.]
no subject
Quentin looks down at the book in her hand like touching it would instantly melt his skin off. Then he steps away, turning his back toward her to idly inspect some other shelves.]
You came here to snoop, right? Then snoop.