[ For better or for worse, like that's that, and Quentin wants to be even more upset but he's too fucking tired to. It's Eliot. That's just how Eliot is, cat-like and to the point even through a thin veneer of humour.
Quentin sighs, pushing his hair back up and out of his face, tucking it behind one of his ears. He follows suit in the drinking department. ]
Uuuh--
[ He clears his throat, moving one of his feet from the chair to hit the floor. ]
no subject
Quentin sighs, pushing his hair back up and out of his face, tucking it behind one of his ears. He follows suit in the drinking department. ]
Uuuh--
[ He clears his throat, moving one of his feet from the chair to hit the floor. ]
That's, uh... The ruling thing not going to well?