I know. It's-- yeah, I know. I know I'm fucking lucky to get this.

[Lucky beyond his wildest dreams, that Eliot wanted him back. That everything that Quentin had to give up and sacrifice was enough to get Eliot his life back, even if this place pulled him here soon after. At least Quentin had bought him a chance.

He's been trying to do that same thing here. Searching through every lead that comes his way, to find a way to get Eliot out of here. He tries very hard to think about what he'd do, if Eliot refused to leave. Coughing, Quentin changes the subject inelegantly and he raises his eyebrow at Ambrose, lips twitching in to a small smile.]

I'm just naturally worried, I guess. I mean, right now? I'm kind of worried about what kind of bag you think will go with your face?