( Oh he feels it alright. So much that Quentin might feel a flicker of annoyance through the connection they share. He doesn't unlock the door — doesn't even open it up a crack. Instead, he speaks from behind it. )
Go away. Or do you want to laugh some more at my stupid dream?
[Oh, a flicker of annoyance? Nah, we can do better than that. If Quentin Quire wants a reaction, he's getting a reaction. It's his specialty. Nate's out here trying to act like he's being oh-so-open-and-honest while blocking him out and has the audacity to accuse Quentin of mocking him? Nope. That's like fifteen different layers of inauthentic bullshit. Quentin may not be the same stupid kid who stole Slick's disguise and forced all those asshole world leaders to confess their secrets, but his tolerance for evasive garbage like Nate's pulling? It's low.
Quentin stubbornly refuses to reply in words, instead responding with a hard, pointed shove against the psychic block. Sorry, Nate, he's not having any damn conversations with anyone through locked fucking doors.]
( Wow. Does this guy not know how to take a hint or something?
He feels the shove that comes after his words — knows that it's harder than the last one was and his left eye glows bright and gold for a moment. He's upset, that much is clear. Thought that Quentin might have some insight in to precognition and if it was something omegas like them are capable of instead of it all just being in his head... in not the usual way it is for a telepath... and the guy had just figured it was a stupid dream when he's here trying not to count down the days he has until he just doesn't exist anymore because thanks Sinister.
He knows that Quentin is his friend and has been someone, more or less, that's been there for him when he's needed him but he just... felt as if his concerns were simply being brushed aside — not taken seriously. Quentin's told him he's come back to life how many times? But that doesn't mean he will whenever that happens. Quentin doesn't have a code written in his DNA to make sure he doesn't live past a certain age. So maybe he's a little more touchy about it than he should be.
So it's why when he flings open the telepathic door there, it's all dramatics as it should be for a Grey-Summers kid and he's eyeing him with that left eye still glowing gold. )
[Quentin can take a hint. He just chooses not to when it suits him. Like now, for example. And look, you can't say he doesn't get results. Nate's dramatics notwithstanding, the fact that he opened the door at all means Quentin won, so ha.]
Or what, Nate? You'll try to kick my ass? I'm quaking.
[He scoffs and plops into an armchair. Yes, there's an armchair here now. Because he's an Omega level psychic, and it's the astral plane, and he can do whatever the fuck he wants. And what he wants is to sit himself right here and decidedly not go away. And if Nate has a problem with that then that's on him.]
Now are we going to talk like grown-ups, or are you gonna start a fight you won't win?
( Does Nate have the upper hand in terms of power? Yes. But does he have the upper hand when it comes to skill and experience? No. That’s where his overconfidence in himself has led to him learning the hard way that raw power doesn’t always mean an instant win, but. Whatever.
He folds his arms in front of his chest and stands there, looking away from Quentin. Quiet for a moment, his jaw tightens before he finally looks back over his shoulder to the other telepath. )
It sucks that you’ve died before. I’m glad you came back from it. But I haven’t. ( Died before, he means. ) And I’m going to someday in the next few years because of some asshole from my world. So maybe it’s no big deal to you that I have these nightmares, but they scare me because it’s not fair.
[It's a step in the right direction, at least. E for effort. However, unfortunately, Nate said that thing about "we both know I could beat you," which admittedly kinda undercuts Quentin's desire to be empathetic. He wrinkles his nose snidely.]
Okay, first of all, we don't know shit.
[He rolls his eyes, clearly offended by Nate's assertion, but he'll get back to that in a bit.]
Second, you're not having dreams about dying. You're having dreams about obliterating the rest of us with your big scary brain muscles you can't control worth a damn. Because no matter how many fucking times we all tell you that wouldn't happen, it doesn't seem to sink in. So.
[Quentin crosses his legs, spreading his arms invitingly.]
( He says that in a way that has him frustrated, as if Quentin should get it but he doesn’t. )
I explode because my powers are too much. What do you think happens when someone literally combusts? I just take half the planet with me when I do.
( Eye glowing that bright warm gold, he reels it in and shakes his head as he forces his fingers through his hair, turning away, eyes closing and the gold slowly fading behind them. )
It doesn’t matter if it’s here or not. I have an expiry date written in me. So it’s going to happen.
What do you want me to say, Nate? "Wow, sounds like all your godawful nightmares are totally precognition, and you're gonna blow any second. Sucks for you?"
[It is taking every bit of self-control in Quentin's body to not tell Nate to get in line, everybody takes a dirt nap eventually, quit whining about it. He's already annoyed about this whole thing, and his "burn it all down" urges are bubbling up to the surface. But he holds back his most biting comments and forces himself to be... moderately productive. Fine. If Nate's going to insist on talking about dying, they can talk about dying.]
I've died more times than all the other mutants here combined, and not a single one of those times was fair. I've gone to the future and saw myself die, and that wasn't fair.
[Quentin shrugs dramatically, his lip curled bitterly.]
All I got for you is the future's not set in stone, and guys like us don't stay dead. If you don't wanna listen to me, that's on you.
( He has half a mind to psychically punch Quentin in the nose and right off the astral plane like he did to Xavier. He instead, pinches the bridge of his nose and turns to face Quentin a little more head-on. Frustrated. Upset. Tired. )
I don't care if guys like us don't stay dead, Quentin. I'm scared. Weren't you any of the times you died? Or are you just so used to it by now that you've forgotten what that's like?
( It doesn't matter if they "come back" like he's implying. Doesn't make him want to go through it or feel it or deal with whatever aftermath could possibly come from something like that. Geez, Quentin. )
[He scowls in offended disbelief at that whole "used to it" line. Low blow, Nate.]
And yeah, I was scared. Obviously, I was. I'm still fucking scared, every goddamn time I think about any of that shit. But I didn't think it was the best idea to go trauma-dump on a powerful psychic who can't handle his own fucked-up emotions, much less someone else's.
[One low blow deserves another, and Quentin tilts his chin up defiantly, daring Nate to tell him he's wrong.]
That said, I'm a reasonable guy. If you really want me to show you, I will. But it sure as hell won't help those nightmares of yours.
[Great, he's shutting down again. Like a petulant kid.
And that's the thing, isn't it? Nate is a stupid kid, bubbling over with too many big emotions and trust issues and not enough common fucking sense. Just like Quentin was at his age.]
It's about Sophie and me, isn't it? She said you didn't think I trusted you.
[Quentin glances down to absently inspect his fingernails.]
First of all, I don't really trust, well. Anyone, so it's not a you thing. And in case you're wondering, yes, that includes Sophie. Second, you're a fucking kid. You're still figuring out how to get your shit together, so no, I'm not gonna tell you shit that isn't your business or you're not ready for. That's life, pal. And three—
[He sits up, holding up three fingers.]
I don't have precognition, but what I do have is experience. I've died, I've seen my potential expiration date, I've been used and fucked over by more people than I care to count, and I know what it's like to have more power than you know what to do with. Now are you gonna listen to the guy who knows what it's like to be you better than any of the other chucklefucks here, or am I leaving you to your moping?
( The irony here is not lost on him. Quentin got pissy at the thought of him not trusting the other telepath with the shared connection. But the moment he gets confused or annoyed about not being trusted by Quentin, it's tough shit, deal with it.
This is why he keeps it solo.
But also, the fact that no one can seem to keep their mouths or minds shut about certain things is annoying and he's regretting taking Julian up on that offer to have a room next to him here. Keeping that to himself, of course. Because his mind goes blank then. Nothing to hide. Just a blank sheet of paper with not a single word scribbled on it. Not a single emotion to be felt.
Smile on his lips, he shrugs. )
Big words from a guy who whined to Julian about me and Sophie one time like some jealous guy.
( Again, the irony here. )
But if I'm just a fucking kid, I think you already know the answer then.
( Turning, he gives a wave over his shoulder. )
Good luck.
( With what? He doesn't say. He just disappears from the astral plane they got going on here and if Quentin tries to feel him out? He won't find him. As if he's completely disappeared from Etraya. He hasn't, it's just mind cloaking of the heavy hitter caliber. #telepaththings. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Go away. Or do you want to laugh some more at my stupid dream?
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Quentin stubbornly refuses to reply in words, instead responding with a hard, pointed shove against the psychic block. Sorry, Nate, he's not having any damn conversations with anyone through locked fucking doors.]
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He feels the shove that comes after his words — knows that it's harder than the last one was and his left eye glows bright and gold for a moment. He's upset, that much is clear. Thought that Quentin might have some insight in to precognition and if it was something omegas like them are capable of instead of it all just being in his head... in not the usual way it is for a telepath... and the guy had just figured it was a stupid dream when he's here trying not to count down the days he has until he just doesn't exist anymore because thanks Sinister.
He knows that Quentin is his friend and has been someone, more or less, that's been there for him when he's needed him but he just... felt as if his concerns were simply being brushed aside — not taken seriously. Quentin's told him he's come back to life how many times? But that doesn't mean he will whenever that happens. Quentin doesn't have a code written in his DNA to make sure he doesn't live past a certain age. So maybe he's a little more touchy about it than he should be.
So it's why when he flings open the telepathic door there, it's all dramatics as it should be for a Grey-Summers kid and he's eyeing him with that left eye still glowing gold. )
I said go away.
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Or what, Nate? You'll try to kick my ass? I'm quaking.
[He scoffs and plops into an armchair. Yes, there's an armchair here now. Because he's an Omega level psychic, and it's the astral plane, and he can do whatever the fuck he wants. And what he wants is to sit himself right here and decidedly not go away. And if Nate has a problem with that then that's on him.]
Now are we going to talk like grown-ups, or are you gonna start a fight you won't win?
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( Does Nate have the upper hand in terms of power? Yes. But does he have the upper hand when it comes to skill and experience? No. That’s where his overconfidence in himself has led to him learning the hard way that raw power doesn’t always mean an instant win, but. Whatever.
He folds his arms in front of his chest and stands there, looking away from Quentin. Quiet for a moment, his jaw tightens before he finally looks back over his shoulder to the other telepath. )
It sucks that you’ve died before. I’m glad you came back from it. But I haven’t. ( Died before, he means. ) And I’m going to someday in the next few years because of some asshole from my world. So maybe it’s no big deal to you that I have these nightmares, but they scare me because it’s not fair.
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Okay, first of all, we don't know shit.
[He rolls his eyes, clearly offended by Nate's assertion, but he'll get back to that in a bit.]
Second, you're not having dreams about dying. You're having dreams about obliterating the rest of us with your big scary brain muscles you can't control worth a damn. Because no matter how many fucking times we all tell you that wouldn't happen, it doesn't seem to sink in. So.
[Quentin crosses his legs, spreading his arms invitingly.]
Take your best shot.
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( He says that in a way that has him frustrated, as if Quentin should get it but he doesn’t. )
I explode because my powers are too much. What do you think happens when someone literally combusts? I just take half the planet with me when I do.
( Eye glowing that bright warm gold, he reels it in and shakes his head as he forces his fingers through his hair, turning away, eyes closing and the gold slowly fading behind them. )
It doesn’t matter if it’s here or not. I have an expiry date written in me. So it’s going to happen.
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[It is taking every bit of self-control in Quentin's body to not tell Nate to get in line, everybody takes a dirt nap eventually, quit whining about it. He's already annoyed about this whole thing, and his "burn it all down" urges are bubbling up to the surface. But he holds back his most biting comments and forces himself to be... moderately productive. Fine. If Nate's going to insist on talking about dying, they can talk about dying.]
I've died more times than all the other mutants here combined, and not a single one of those times was fair. I've gone to the future and saw myself die, and that wasn't fair.
[Quentin shrugs dramatically, his lip curled bitterly.]
All I got for you is the future's not set in stone, and guys like us don't stay dead. If you don't wanna listen to me, that's on you.
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I don't care if guys like us don't stay dead, Quentin. I'm scared. Weren't you any of the times you died? Or are you just so used to it by now that you've forgotten what that's like?
( It doesn't matter if they "come back" like he's implying. Doesn't make him want to go through it or feel it or deal with whatever aftermath could possibly come from something like that. Geez, Quentin. )
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[He scowls in offended disbelief at that whole "used to it" line. Low blow, Nate.]
And yeah, I was scared. Obviously, I was. I'm still fucking scared, every goddamn time I think about any of that shit. But I didn't think it was the best idea to go trauma-dump on a powerful psychic who can't handle his own fucked-up emotions, much less someone else's.
[One low blow deserves another, and Quentin tilts his chin up defiantly, daring Nate to tell him he's wrong.]
That said, I'm a reasonable guy. If you really want me to show you, I will. But it sure as hell won't help those nightmares of yours.
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Forget it. Everyone keeps everything to themselves — or keeps it from others. That's just how it is.
( He's just stuck feeling it all unless he shuts himself off. But hey, the life of a telepath, amirite? )
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You got something to say to me, Nate? 'Cause it sure as fuck sounds like this isn't about some nightmares anymore.
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( To which he shrugs. )
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And that's the thing, isn't it? Nate is a stupid kid, bubbling over with too many big emotions and trust issues and not enough common fucking sense. Just like Quentin was at his age.]
It's about Sophie and me, isn't it? She said you didn't think I trusted you.
[Quentin glances down to absently inspect his fingernails.]
First of all, I don't really trust, well. Anyone, so it's not a you thing. And in case you're wondering, yes, that includes Sophie. Second, you're a fucking kid. You're still figuring out how to get your shit together, so no, I'm not gonna tell you shit that isn't your business or you're not ready for. That's life, pal. And three—
[He sits up, holding up three fingers.]
I don't have precognition, but what I do have is experience. I've died, I've seen my potential expiration date, I've been used and fucked over by more people than I care to count, and I know what it's like to have more power than you know what to do with. Now are you gonna listen to the guy who knows what it's like to be you better than any of the other chucklefucks here, or am I leaving you to your moping?
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This is why he keeps it solo.
But also, the fact that no one can seem to keep their mouths or minds shut about certain things is annoying and he's regretting taking Julian up on that offer to have a room next to him here. Keeping that to himself, of course. Because his mind goes blank then. Nothing to hide. Just a blank sheet of paper with not a single word scribbled on it. Not a single emotion to be felt.
Smile on his lips, he shrugs. )
Big words from a guy who whined to Julian about me and Sophie one time like some jealous guy.
( Again, the irony here. )
But if I'm just a fucking kid, I think you already know the answer then.
( Turning, he gives a wave over his shoulder. )
Good luck.
( With what? He doesn't say. He just disappears from the astral plane they got going on here and if Quentin tries to feel him out? He won't find him. As if he's completely disappeared from Etraya. He hasn't, it's just mind cloaking of the heavy hitter caliber. #telepaththings. )