A different type of witty and charming. [ They'd either love or hate each other, Quentin thinks, and he dips his fingers into the small container of chicken blood (where the hell had Klaus even got that?) and draws a line on his forehead. He grabs a piece of chalk next and clears the floor, drawing a symbol proper. God, this had better work.
He doesn't have the heart to tell Klaus that there might be the possibility of Quentin just never remembering this. Never remembering Klaus. He hopes not, but... Well.
Either way. This should get him to the Neitherlands, and from there--he'll have to figure it out. ]
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He doesn't have the heart to tell Klaus that there might be the possibility of Quentin just never remembering this. Never remembering Klaus. He hopes not, but... Well.
Either way. This should get him to the Neitherlands, and from there--he'll have to figure it out. ]
I miss them. I'll miss you.