[It's not that he didn't hear, because Quentin did, even if he doesn't believe it. Something went wrong at the feast and there's the total lack of Eliot that's more than a little worrying. He should be down here by now. He should be standing there, vest and all, overlooking the mess in front of the cabin they chose and make a witty quip about bloody neighbors or something like it.
But the room behind him is empty and Quentin frowns, hands clenching at his sides as he turns back around, eyes on M.K. and his kind of cool, kind of disturbing black eyes.]
What do you mean, went wrong? Wrong how? And-- the spirits? It didn't seem all that unusual to me? Except for how it wanted to, uh, eat my face?
no subject
[It's not that he didn't hear, because Quentin did, even if he doesn't believe it. Something went wrong at the feast and there's the total lack of Eliot that's more than a little worrying. He should be down here by now. He should be standing there, vest and all, overlooking the mess in front of the cabin they chose and make a witty quip about bloody neighbors or something like it.
But the room behind him is empty and Quentin frowns, hands clenching at his sides as he turns back around, eyes on M.K. and his kind of cool, kind of disturbing black eyes.]
What do you mean, went wrong? Wrong how? And-- the spirits? It didn't seem all that unusual to me? Except for how it wanted to, uh, eat my face?