[ he places the stone, wrapped in what may have, once upon a time, been a distinctly unattractive plaid shirt — as it stands, it's now a somewhat roughly cut square of material, but it does the job. he slides the package — kinda — towards quentin. ]
This belongs to you, I think. [ he says, before pulling out a chair and sitting down across from quentin. part of him wants to ask quentin what he'll do with it, but the rest of him is torn between really, not wanting to know, and knowing that it's none of his business anyway.
in lieu of that question, he leans forward a little, attempting to read the spine of the book quentin had been reading and making notes from, before opting to just ask. ] What are you reading? [ it's a little louder than a whisper, more force of habit than anything else, given that it's just the two of them in the library. ]
no subject
This belongs to you, I think. [ he says, before pulling out a chair and sitting down across from quentin. part of him wants to ask quentin what he'll do with it, but the rest of him is torn between really, not wanting to know, and knowing that it's none of his business anyway.
in lieu of that question, he leans forward a little, attempting to read the spine of the book quentin had been reading and making notes from, before opting to just ask. ] What are you reading? [ it's a little louder than a whisper, more force of habit than anything else, given that it's just the two of them in the library. ]