(His saving grace for hearing all about how she did nothing much is... Kamala Khan. As it usually is. She did gently tell Sophie off before over the same shit, because Sophie just can't understand how to be normal, and if Kamala and Quentin are saying the same shit, it means... Ugh, he's right.
Fucking hell.)
Fine, heard and understood.
(Apologize? No. Maybe. Needed? Not sure. Apologize??? She's bad at it. Maybe it's implicit enough that she doesn't have to do it herself.
[Watching her process "empathy" would be funny if it wasn't making more work for him. And... okay, fine, at least she seems to kinda get it now. A little.
And then she... apologizes? Is that what that was? Quentin squints his eyes quizzically.]
Why're you telling me?
[Whatever, not important. He waves it off dismissively.]
Honestly, you should be thanking me. As should he, for that matter. Ungrateful little freak you found yourself. And not as interesting as I hoped, tragically.
(Someone explain to her how is this man so intelligent and yet so fucking stupid. She's apologizing exactly because she made work for him.
Cripes, she sometimes just wants to shake him.
But he wants to dismiss it, and wave it off, then fine. She's not talking, her eyes rolling and her arms crossing not for the words he gives, but fine, for that, too.)
Welcome to the flatscans of Etraya. Let me know when he's ready to give me a whammy.
(Yeah, she's out of that chair right now, not to kill him.
Fucking idiot. Not a day goes by that she doesn't want to shake him into oblivion. Instead, it's to her side of the bed she returns to, to be pissy on her own. By not leaving his room. Because this is normal.)
He's basically this huge nerd scientist who's really hot and kinda charismatic, so this chick pushed him into, you know, taking over a high political spot he definitely shouldn't hold. So, yeah, he has guards. I'm going back to my game now.
Right, right, yeah, okay, that's boring, though. Politics on some fuck-off other universe with some-bastard and what's-her-face, who gives a shit. I wanted intellectual stimulation, not himbo-in-disguise who's also a simp for magic bullshit.
[He waves his hands emphatically at her, as though she is clearly on the same wavelength as him and fully agrees. Which he knows is not true, but you know.
This is what you get when you decide to spend your free time around Quentin Quire.]
Anyway, he's not completely hopeless, at least. His psychic defenses are hot garbage unless he's pissed off, though. You should help him with that, since you're so invested in his life or whatever.
[~*~says it sarcastically but actually means it~*~]
(She was so ready to drop this conversation, she's already so annoyed, but he keeps going on. Cannot believe this bitch is making her look up from her portable, only to roll her eyes at him.)
That's on you for being nosy; it's got nothing to do with me.
(Says she, who started this by being nosy, but look, she didn't promise Quire shit??? He just went in???)
Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll help him, alright? Make him work for it and everything.
(He is having his enrichment, she isn't murdering him, but instead, letting him humble her, so APPRECIATE IT, hoe.
Her eyes roll, although that means very little considering they're glowing white and she's off doing this stupid bit. Like she promised, she'll even make the fucking flatscan work for it.
Jayce doesn't manage a nosebleed out of her, but a relentless migraine and tinnitus? Granted, and she winces from pain in her spot on the bed before hiding her head under the pillows. In this disco ball of a room. Too much, too much.)
I fucking hate you so fucking much, Quire, holy shit.
(Muffled from under the pillow, she's gonna need a hot minute. This sucks.)
[Ah, yes, he is very enriched now. And very much not unbearably smug.]
Psh, I'm helping you. This shit builds character.
[Yes. Character building. Which she definitely asked for.
If she was close enough, he'd pat her on the back in a facetious show of comfort. But that requires getting up, and he's too lazy to do that. So she just gets the psychic impression of the concept of him comforting her or whatever. That's close enough, right?]
(She needs just a hot minute, and there he is, there-there-ing her in her brain. If she sucks, he sucks too, he better not forget it, and she gives him the equivalent of a wave of dismissal. Bitch. If you wanna comfort her, you have two very functional legs that you can use to walk over here yourself, Quire. 1 for Effort.
Very slowly, she sits back again, fingers pressed against her temples in a futile attempt to soothe her headache.)
There are other ways to help that don't include a migraine.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Fucking hell.)
Fine, heard and understood.
(Apologize? No. Maybe. Needed? Not sure. Apologize??? She's bad at it. Maybe it's implicit enough that she doesn't have to do it herself.
There's a lump on her throat. Goddamnit.)
... My bad.
(Nailed it.)
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And then she... apologizes? Is that what that was? Quentin squints his eyes quizzically.]
Why're you telling me?
[Whatever, not important. He waves it off dismissively.]
Honestly, you should be thanking me. As should he, for that matter. Ungrateful little freak you found yourself. And not as interesting as I hoped, tragically.
no subject
Cripes, she sometimes just wants to shake him.
But he wants to dismiss it, and wave it off, then fine. She's not talking, her eyes rolling and her arms crossing not for the words he gives, but fine, for that, too.)
Welcome to the flatscans of Etraya. Let me know when he's ready to give me a whammy.
no subject
Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, you'll know.
[Slightly ominous? Yes. Yes, it is. Don't worry about it.]
Ugh, you didn't tell me he was some kinda hoity-toity bourgeoisie type. Really? He had guards to escort people out?
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Fucking idiot. Not a day goes by that she doesn't want to shake him into oblivion. Instead, it's to her side of the bed she returns to, to be pissy on her own. By not leaving his room. Because this is normal.)
He's basically this huge nerd scientist who's really hot and kinda charismatic, so this chick pushed him into, you know, taking over a high political spot he definitely shouldn't hold. So, yeah, he has guards. I'm going back to my game now.
no subject
[He waves his hands emphatically at her, as though she is clearly on the same wavelength as him and fully agrees. Which he knows is not true, but you know.
This is what you get when you decide to spend your free time around Quentin Quire.]
Anyway, he's not completely hopeless, at least. His psychic defenses are hot garbage unless he's pissed off, though. You should help him with that, since you're so invested in his life or whatever.
[~*~says it sarcastically but actually means it~*~]
no subject
That's on you for being nosy; it's got nothing to do with me.
(Says she, who started this by being nosy, but look, she didn't promise Quire shit??? He just went in???)
Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll help him, alright? Make him work for it and everything.
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[Yes. Obviously. But he's being smug and patronizing. Because it's enrichment for him. Let him have enrichment, Sophie!!]
Cool, well, you're up. Have fun!
[And now he's making finger guns at her. It's enrichment, Sophie.]
no subject
Her eyes roll, although that means very little considering they're glowing white and she's off doing this stupid bit. Like she promised, she'll even make the fucking flatscan work for it.
Jayce doesn't manage a nosebleed out of her, but a relentless migraine and tinnitus? Granted, and she winces from pain in her spot on the bed before hiding her head under the pillows. In this disco ball of a room. Too much, too much.)
I fucking hate you so fucking much, Quire, holy shit.
(Muffled from under the pillow, she's gonna need a hot minute. This sucks.)
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Psh, I'm helping you. This shit builds character.
[Yes. Character building. Which she definitely asked for.
If she was close enough, he'd pat her on the back in a facetious show of comfort. But that requires getting up, and he's too lazy to do that. So she just gets the psychic impression of the concept of him comforting her or whatever. That's close enough, right?]
no subject
Very slowly, she sits back again, fingers pressed against her temples in a futile attempt to soothe her headache.)
There are other ways to help that don't include a migraine.
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Took you two times getting booted out of Keller's brain before you listened, right?
[And no, he's still not getting up. This is tough love.]
Just saying, kinda seems like migraine is the best way you learn.
no subject
Her index finger points up, the clear sign of 'acshually' before she does, indeed, acshually.)
To be fair, Laura asked me to do it the first time, in what universe do I say 'no' to Laura?
(Hello?????)
... Look, fine, okay. Fine, I deserved this one, too.