[ by now, quentin’s voice is familiar and peter doesn’t need to look through the peep hole in the door or even to open it to know who it is. ordinarily, he thinks that he’d be happier to hear quentin asking if he’s in there, but this time, he’s not sure that he is — he knows what the opals do and whilst he’s aware it could be worse, it’s not a reality he’s thrilled by.
(he supposes quentin could be visiting for any reason, and if he’s not— well, it’s better than the graves, at least. better than visions of their own deaths.
hopefully. )
gwen’s still staying on his couch and truthfully, he’s never been more grateful for the company: sure, jason knows more than anyone here about him, but he doesn’t know him in the way that gwen knows him simply by virtue of shared experiences and a shared history.
he answers the door with a rolled up blanket in one hand, a potentially convenient distraction from any conversations he doesn’t want to have. ]
—Hey, Quentin. [ a beat and a twitch of his lips. ] My hermiting’s a work in progress but yeah, I’m in here.
no subject
(he supposes quentin could be visiting for any reason, and if he’s not— well, it’s better than the graves, at least. better than visions of their own deaths.
hopefully. )
gwen’s still staying on his couch and truthfully, he’s never been more grateful for the company: sure, jason knows more than anyone here about him, but he doesn’t know him in the way that gwen knows him simply by virtue of shared experiences and a shared history.
he answers the door with a rolled up blanket in one hand, a potentially convenient distraction from any conversations he doesn’t want to have. ]
—Hey, Quentin. [ a beat and a twitch of his lips. ] My hermiting’s a work in progress but yeah, I’m in here.