[For a brief moment Quentin considers wrenching away and leaving anyway. But he doesn't. Because, well. Of course he doesn't. That would be the rational thing to do, and Quentin Quire guzzles stupid juice right before any time he talks to Sophie. Apparently.
Still, it is genuinely surprising when she grabs him by the shirt and—oh, that was some little baby level TK, wasn't it? That's fun. His eyebrows shoot up, and one of his hand reflexively goes to grip the wrist of the hand she's got fisted in his shirt.]
no subject
Still, it is genuinely surprising when she grabs him by the shirt and—oh, that was some little baby level TK, wasn't it? That's fun. His eyebrows shoot up, and one of his hand reflexively goes to grip the wrist of the hand she's got fisted in his shirt.]
/What's mean?/