( Sorry, Quentin. She heard the name, and she just— sails right past it. He is only Marianne or Sawyer, now. She's about to say it ain't the rocks that being Greek has to do with, duh but he distracts her.
Her hand snaps out, catching his wrist. For all the quickness, and for all her personal unpleasantness, the hold is gentle. )
What did you say? ( Lower, watching him closely, that obnoxious attitude melting away. She can be serious, apparently. ) What else did you see? Not the autopsy, that's fucked up, I meant— the kid with the tractors and that.
no subject
( Sorry, Quentin. She heard the name, and she just— sails right past it. He is only Marianne or Sawyer, now. She's about to say it ain't the rocks that being Greek has to do with, duh but he distracts her.
Her hand snaps out, catching his wrist. For all the quickness, and for all her personal unpleasantness, the hold is gentle. )
What did you say? ( Lower, watching him closely, that obnoxious attitude melting away. She can be serious, apparently. ) What else did you see? Not the autopsy, that's fucked up, I meant— the kid with the tractors and that.