[ How is he doing? Not good. Not so fucking good, but he's less angry and more defeated. He's tired, not just because he hasn't slept for what feels like days, but also because he's trying to cobble everyone's pieces together and it sucks but it's all he can do.
Eliot's right. He's usually right--and it breaks Quentin's heart just a little more when he realizes that Eliot suspects there's an ulterior motive. There isn't, asides from maybe wanting a friend. He can't hide his slightly surprised expression--hell, Quentin can't hide anything, he's always been too expressive--and he shrugs. ]
I mean, do I actually need a reason? I can't just hang out?
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Eliot's right. He's usually right--and it breaks Quentin's heart just a little more when he realizes that Eliot suspects there's an ulterior motive. There isn't, asides from maybe wanting a friend. He can't hide his slightly surprised expression--hell, Quentin can't hide anything, he's always been too expressive--and he shrugs. ]
I mean, do I actually need a reason? I can't just hang out?