[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?
(Hey, at least he pulls a laugh out of her before he starts talking about unpleasanties. Incredible is a word for it, so are many, many other very positive adjectives. Sophie wasn't sure what she expected when they first got into it, but she can easily say that not only did he fulfill the mission she had given given him — or else she'd have left —, but also she had so much stupid fun, and that was news to her. Pretty pleased, you know?
She pestered him to talk to her for months, and now he is, so the least she can do is listen. Funny how getting something good going for once makes her not want to rebuke every point and fight every word. Quentin is right, though, it is unpleasant, but perhaps it's a small victory that she doesn't want to bite his head off for it, greatly because she is getting what he is coming from.
Although, as previously stated approximately a billion times, she isn't Phoebe, this isn't exactly about that; however, when he rolls his eyes, she does too. It's Quentin's bizarre way of trying not to ruin whatever the hell he has with Sophie. Not to get all puddly, romantic and mushed, like she's seen he gets, and to be quite honest? She wouldn't like that either. The Cuckoo in her adores the thought of men simping, but Sophie herself? She likes being challenged, snark, sarcasm, and laughing herself silly. She's seen Quentin simping, and it's not for her, personally speaking.
That said, it's... Considerate, in a confounded, kinda fucked up way that he doesn't want to repeat his shit with her and set more fire to the flaming garbage can that is Sophie Cuckoo and Quentin Quire, protect himself from it in a weird sorta way. So, at the end of his talk, there's a very quiet laugh that comes from her, a shrug of shoulders.)
Good, because I don't care for any of that.
(Like, she'll do it, but care for? Blergh. She feels the gaze upon her, and lets her own meet his.)
We managed to be normal while at it, so I think the prospects are good, but you got a deal. Can't promise you I won't kiss you on a whim when we're alone, but other than that? I got you.
(Meaning she will shake him if he gets too much.)
As for me, what I care about is that we make decisions together and talk shit through when we need to, 50/50, which is what we've been doing. Can't complain, don't want more than that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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?
no subject
(Hey, at least he pulls a laugh out of her before he starts talking about unpleasanties. Incredible is a word for it, so are many, many other very positive adjectives. Sophie wasn't sure what she expected when they first got into it, but she can easily say that not only did he fulfill the mission she had given given him — or else she'd have left —, but also she had so much stupid fun, and that was news to her. Pretty pleased, you know?
She pestered him to talk to her for months, and now he is, so the least she can do is listen. Funny how getting something good going for once makes her not want to rebuke every point and fight every word. Quentin is right, though, it is unpleasant, but perhaps it's a small victory that she doesn't want to bite his head off for it, greatly because she is getting what he is coming from.
Although, as previously stated approximately a billion times, she isn't Phoebe, this isn't exactly about that; however, when he rolls his eyes, she does too. It's Quentin's bizarre way of trying not to ruin whatever the hell he has with Sophie. Not to get all puddly, romantic and mushed, like she's seen he gets, and to be quite honest? She wouldn't like that either. The Cuckoo in her adores the thought of men simping, but Sophie herself? She likes being challenged, snark, sarcasm, and laughing herself silly. She's seen Quentin simping, and it's not for her, personally speaking.
That said, it's... Considerate, in a confounded, kinda fucked up way that he doesn't want to repeat his shit with her and set more fire to the flaming garbage can that is Sophie Cuckoo and Quentin Quire, protect himself from it in a weird sorta way. So, at the end of his talk, there's a very quiet laugh that comes from her, a shrug of shoulders.)
Good, because I don't care for any of that.
(Like, she'll do it, but care for? Blergh. She feels the gaze upon her, and lets her own meet his.)
We managed to be normal while at it, so I think the prospects are good, but you got a deal. Can't promise you I won't kiss you on a whim when we're alone, but other than that? I got you.
(Meaning she will shake him if he gets too much.)
As for me, what I care about is that we make decisions together and talk shit through when we need to, 50/50, which is what we've been doing. Can't complain, don't want more than that.