[He makes an acknowledging "hm" noise at her compliment. He knows it's good. That's why he downloaded the recipe. He sits at the table and starts eating.]
/Fine, you "worrying about him" isn't going to change anything. Guy's scared enough of his own powers without everyone else being scared of them too. That shit does stuff to you, you know?/
/We gotta work on those people skills, Quentin. Huge difference between "scared of" and "worried about". He's sweet, I just don't want him to go through shit like that./
(Now she's the one who just has to roll her eyes. There they go.
She's very much aware of the consequences of Quentin Quire has a bad moral alignment phase.)
/... You know what? I'm not engaging with that last part./
["There they go," indeed. Quentin looks over at her sharply, because he wasn't actually intending to sound like an edgelord there (for once), but... it's not like he can say it's an unreasonable assumption to make. He knows how his voice sounds. Whatever. He makes an airy dismissive gesture with his fork.]
/You asked for my take. My take is, for an Omega, "scared of" and "worried about" are the same thing./
[He pokes at his eggs some more, occasionally waving around his fork to illustrate his point, and his tone is purposefully cavalier, matter-of-fact. Maybe Sophie hasn't had any need to consider this shit, but Quentin sure as hell has.]
/I mean it makes sense. If somebody can obliterate a crucial part of your existence because they're having a really crap day, you wanna make sure they don't have too many crap days, right? It's just kinda part of the Omega package./ [He sighs extra dramatically.] /It's the cost of greatness, I suppose./
(She did ask for his take, don't remind her, but that's exactly why she's actually paying attention to Quentin Quire for once. The hand that holds the fork supports her face under her chin, and she...
Well. He makes a great point, but Sophie has never been team Let Kid Omega have some peace. To the contrary, actually. Perhaps it's the unconscious thought that she thinks he'd never purposefully hurt her, all things considered, but if that's a thought he wants, he has to fish deeper from their superficial convo; she has no energy to rehash or debate it right now.
Instead, listens, considers, wrinkles her nose as she processes it with, ugh, gross, some empathy in mind.)
/I see how you see it that way./
(She's trying so hard.)
/Look, from my point of view, I see this precious guy who has a lot on his plate, doesn't want to fuck up, and is scared he might. That sucks, and I don't know what to do to help./
[Quentin chokes at that description and gives her a look of utter disbelief, both searching her face and skimming her mind for any sense of like... irony?? Understanding? Realization of what she just fucking said and to whom she said it?
But... no. She's completely sincere, at least as far as he can tell.
Fucking hell.
He looks back at his food bitterly, mouth pressed into a thin line.]
/You don't. You already said you don't get what he's dealing with, right? Let me handle it./
(It's not just the face he makes, it's the bitterness that she feels propelled into her brain that makes her recoil from him a little, distancing so she doesn't choke alongside him.
It definitely stopped being about Nate, and both of them know it.
Her forearms settle calmly on the table, blue eyes staring right at his as she leans in. If he has something to say to her, he should just fucking say it.)
Quentin ignores it. Doesn't shut her out of his head, but he doesn't give her much to look at either, not unless she decides to go digging. Well. Okay. He doesn't fully ignore it.]
/You can keep staring all you want. We're not talking about it./
(Says she, who too is impossible. Both are impossible, and they're stuck in impossible hell.
She sighs, going back to her eggs, although she's much less energetic than before. It's awkward, and it was actually not bad before. Not like it is exactly what keeps happening to them.
But last time, it wasn't horrible after they got at it, either. Maybe, she can salvage their late night instead of them going to their respective rooms and being grumpy and overthinky.)
[No comment on the "impossible" thing. He isn't in the mood to explain his feelings to Sophie Cuckoo of all people. He's silent for a while... until she asks about his plans for the rest of the night. Well. Morning at this point. Early, early morning. He pauses. Thinks. Looks at her with weary eyes.]
(Why does he do this to himself, he's obviously exhausted — if not of her, simply because it's late, or early.
Her sleep is fucked, she's aware of this. Hell, he probably knows she slept all afternoon into early evening today, her sad girl phase over not being with Kamala, not helping David at NYX, her lack of a hivemind, shitty powers, worries, loneliness, the impossibility to text tarnishedmoodring, ah, those things pile, but she's starting to accept it. A little. Or else, she wouldn't have even accepted that egg, would she? Moody and difficult, and unfortunately, she knows it.)
/I'm going to change and I'm going to go play some games at the arcade. You should rest, but if you want to, I'd like the company./
[Why does he do this to himself? Not to get a date or attention or any of that bullshit. That's well-established by this point. They talked about it. He moved on.
Then why?
Because he thinks about leaving Sophie alone to wallow in her misery, and he just. Can't stand by and let it happen. Does that make him empathic? Or a sucker. Unclear.
Anyway, he's too distracted to think about that any further because there's a certain Thing she just said. Quentin frowns in confusion.]
(That... It was not what she expected him to take from her sentence. Maybe, you know. He'd go to bed, and she'd be upset and feel lonely if he did, although it would be the best thing for him.
... But, since they're here, well. Her eyes squint, does she trust him with confidential information, bigger than her thoughts on Nate Grey, or even her bitter feelings towards, well, everything? ... Yeah. Ugh, fuck, she does. Her TK brings back her phone into her hands, and she raises a finger to tell him to hold up as she accesses her messages with her gaming rival. When she hands him the phone, it's a printscreen of her absurd high rank in Summoner's, because:)
(She was expecting him to make fun of her, or at least echo the same sentiment everyone in NYX has, the Is Sophie Cuckoo Okay Actually, but she feels... Nothing but good things. There's a bright smile that comes as a reaction to it, and she snorts a little.)
/Yep, and I taught Ms. Marvel, too, but she doesn't appreciate the fact that losing is an illusion that comes from accepting it in the first place./
(Oh, Quentin, you were doing good, and now she's rolling her eyes at him, although not all mean-spirited. He's right, and Kamala probably would agree with him that Sophie, the girl she met a few weeks ago, would call Kamala out for saying the same shit immediately.
Correct. That girl is not wholly this girl, though.
Ugh, she really is a nerd. God, she's getting called a nerd by Quentin Quire. Quentin. Quire. What has this world become. What has she become.)
/Yeah, well. Ugh. Get used to it, guess that's where I'm at right now. Are you coming, or do I gotta kick ass alone?/
[So here's the thing. Quentin would much rather go back to bed. He's tired, and as funny as it is to think about Sophie Cuckoo playing arcade games, he's also not... particularly excited about this much "quality" time with her, mainly because every conversation he has with her is littered with a metric fuckton of baggage and awkwardness. Sure, if he did go back to bed, his chances of actually sleeping would be slim, but at least he would spare himself the inevitable embarrassment.
He sighs and gets up from his seat.]
/Sure, why not. Might as well see your pro gamer skills in action, right?/
(And she agrees that he should go back to bed, or at least try — but she gave him a choice, and he chose to come with her. God knows why, she doesn't, and she doesn't wanna look into it either. Wherever they stand, she too senses just how delicate it is. One wrong word, one misplaced feeling, and they're most likely back to arguing.
But in some weird, fucked up way, she doesn't feel as alone when he's around. She won't complain if being around her is what he chooses to do.)
/... You're not gonna let me live this down, are you? I'll meet you here in a bit./
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
/Fine, you "worrying about him" isn't going to change anything. Guy's scared enough of his own powers without everyone else being scared of them too. That shit does stuff to you, you know?/
no subject
(They deserve each other.)
/That's why I brought it up with you. What helped you?/
no subject
/Me? I've never really had trouble controlling my powers. Not like him, at least./
[He shrugs.]
/I also never had to deal with everybody and their mom being scared shitless of me.
Look, think of it this way: he can't fuck you guys up accidentally any worse than I could on purpose. He'd just be, you know. Louder about it./
no subject
(Now she's the one who just has to roll her eyes. There they go.
She's very much aware of the consequences of Quentin Quire has a bad moral alignment phase.)
/... You know what? I'm not engaging with that last part./
no subject
/You asked for my take. My take is, for an Omega, "scared of" and "worried about" are the same thing./
[He pokes at his eggs some more, occasionally waving around his fork to illustrate his point, and his tone is purposefully cavalier, matter-of-fact. Maybe Sophie hasn't had any need to consider this shit, but Quentin sure as hell has.]
/I mean it makes sense. If somebody can obliterate a crucial part of your existence because they're having a really crap day, you wanna make sure they don't have too many crap days, right? It's just kinda part of the Omega package./ [He sighs extra dramatically.] /It's the cost of greatness, I suppose./
no subject
Well. He makes a great point, but Sophie has never been team Let Kid Omega have some peace. To the contrary, actually. Perhaps it's the unconscious thought that she thinks he'd never purposefully hurt her, all things considered, but if that's a thought he wants, he has to fish deeper from their superficial convo; she has no energy to rehash or debate it right now.
Instead, listens, considers, wrinkles her nose as she processes it with, ugh, gross, some empathy in mind.)
/I see how you see it that way./
(She's trying so hard.)
/Look, from my point of view, I see this precious guy who has a lot on his plate, doesn't want to fuck up, and is scared he might. That sucks, and I don't know what to do to help./
no subject
But... no. She's completely sincere, at least as far as he can tell.
Fucking hell.
He looks back at his food bitterly, mouth pressed into a thin line.]
/You don't. You already said you don't get what he's dealing with, right? Let me handle it./
no subject
It definitely stopped being about Nate, and both of them know it.
Her forearms settle calmly on the table, blue eyes staring right at his as she leans in. If he has something to say to her, he should just fucking say it.)
no subject
Quentin ignores it. Doesn't shut her out of his head, but he doesn't give her much to look at either, not unless she decides to go digging. Well. Okay. He doesn't fully ignore it.]
/You can keep staring all you want. We're not talking about it./
no subject
(Says she, who too is impossible. Both are impossible, and they're stuck in impossible hell.
She sighs, going back to her eggs, although she's much less energetic than before. It's awkward, and it was actually not bad before. Not like it is exactly what keeps happening to them.
But last time, it wasn't horrible after they got at it, either. Maybe, she can salvage their late night instead of them going to their respective rooms and being grumpy and overthinky.)
/Do you have plans to actually sleep tonight?/
no subject
/What did you have in mind./
no subject
Her sleep is fucked, she's aware of this. Hell, he probably knows she slept all afternoon into early evening today, her sad girl phase over not being with Kamala, not helping David at NYX, her lack of a hivemind, shitty powers, worries, loneliness, the impossibility to text tarnishedmoodring, ah, those things pile, but she's starting to accept it. A little. Or else, she wouldn't have even accepted that egg, would she? Moody and difficult, and unfortunately, she knows it.)
/I'm going to change and I'm going to go play some games at the arcade. You should rest, but if you want to, I'd like the company./
no subject
Then why?
Because he thinks about leaving Sophie alone to wallow in her misery, and he just. Can't stand by and let it happen. Does that make him empathic? Or a sucker. Unclear.
Anyway, he's too distracted to think about that any further because there's a certain Thing she just said. Quentin frowns in confusion.]
/You play arcade games?/
no subject
... But, since they're here, well. Her eyes squint, does she trust him with confidential information, bigger than her thoughts on Nate Grey, or even her bitter feelings towards, well, everything? ... Yeah. Ugh, fuck, she does. Her TK brings back her phone into her hands, and she raises a finger to tell him to hold up as she accesses her messages with her gaming rival. When she hands him the phone, it's a printscreen of her absurd high rank in Summoner's, because:)
/Surprise, nerd./
no subject
There's a flicker of surprised appreciation that can be easily felt telepathically and is reflected in the way his eyes widen ]
/Wait, you play Summoner's? I don't even play Summoner's./
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/Yep, and I taught Ms. Marvel, too, but she doesn't appreciate the fact that losing is an illusion that comes from accepting it in the first place./
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/Holy shit, that's the nerdiest thing I think you've ever said./
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Correct. That girl is not wholly this girl, though.
Ugh, she really is a nerd. God, she's getting called a nerd by Quentin Quire. Quentin. Quire. What has this world become. What has she become.)
/Yeah, well. Ugh. Get used to it, guess that's where I'm at right now. Are you coming, or do I gotta kick ass alone?/
no subject
He sighs and gets up from his seat.]
/Sure, why not. Might as well see your pro gamer skills in action, right?/
no subject
But in some weird, fucked up way, she doesn't feel as alone when he's around. She won't complain if being around her is what he chooses to do.)
/... You're not gonna let me live this down, are you? I'll meet you here in a bit./
(She's not gonna go out in PJs.)