[Okay, well, that was a semi-nice moment that's now ruined. But hey, at least Quentin wasn't the one who ruined it. He'll take what he can get.
He's quiet for a moment, but this time he's not deciding what snarky jabs would be a stupid idea to say. He's... weighing options. Quentin side-steps away from the wall, straightening his clothing as he gets his thoughts in order. He glances at Julian briefly when he starts going off about being a "personal punishment dispenser," but otherwise just looks at the ground. Thinking.
There's the straightforward option: admitting that yeah, he self-sabotages. Quentin's well aware of that particular vice. He knows he tried to weaponize Keller, because again, self-sabotage, and he knows what a dick move that is. Manipulation is manipulation, regardless of whether or not telepathy is involved. He was just... well, hurting. Not an excuse, but it's the truth. All the guilt and grief and baggage, not to mention being suddenly surrounded by the people who've known him at his worst, it all just dredged up so much wretched putrid bullshit inside him, and he couldn't stop himself. Quentin Quire doesn't lose control of his powers. Nope, that would be simple. A semi-decent excuse. He just loses control of himself. He's thinking more clearly now, at least. Nothing like a good pushed-to-the-brink douchebag-induced panic attack to clear the ole noggin.
So yeah, that's the most direct option. Simple. Addresses the immediate issues. Potentially leaves an open door for Quentin to ease into the trickier stuff, like the whole hot complicated mess that was Krakoa. Or at least stall. Give himself more time to consider what Julian has a right to know and what's cruel to tell him. His island paradise is already dead. What if it's worse to know who actually killed it?
Julian's right that Quentin doesn't know him. Not really. But Quentin knows what he would want. And thanks to Sophie, he knows what Julian will do when he doesn't all the information. So he straightens up, looks Julian in the eye, and says in a clear, if slightly hurried, voice:]
The humans didn't take Krakoa from us. We did. Mutants. I was... closer than most. Saw it happen.
[And there it is. Not a good option. There are no good options. But it's the truth. Quentin continues before Julian has time to reply, waving his hand to cut off any further (understandable) accusations of self-sabotage.]
I'm not saying this so you'll get mad, be my "punishment dispenser" or whatever. You said you'd do the same as me, right? Means you probably oughta know what I actually did.
no subject
He's quiet for a moment, but this time he's not deciding what snarky jabs would be a stupid idea to say. He's... weighing options. Quentin side-steps away from the wall, straightening his clothing as he gets his thoughts in order. He glances at Julian briefly when he starts going off about being a "personal punishment dispenser," but otherwise just looks at the ground. Thinking.
There's the straightforward option: admitting that yeah, he self-sabotages. Quentin's well aware of that particular vice. He knows he tried to weaponize Keller, because again, self-sabotage, and he knows what a dick move that is. Manipulation is manipulation, regardless of whether or not telepathy is involved. He was just... well, hurting. Not an excuse, but it's the truth. All the guilt and grief and baggage, not to mention being suddenly surrounded by the people who've known him at his worst, it all just dredged up so much wretched putrid bullshit inside him, and he couldn't stop himself. Quentin Quire doesn't lose control of his powers. Nope, that would be simple. A semi-decent excuse. He just loses control of himself. He's thinking more clearly now, at least. Nothing like a good pushed-to-the-brink douchebag-induced panic attack to clear the ole noggin.
So yeah, that's the most direct option. Simple. Addresses the immediate issues. Potentially leaves an open door for Quentin to ease into the trickier stuff, like the whole hot complicated mess that was Krakoa. Or at least stall. Give himself more time to consider what Julian has a right to know and what's cruel to tell him. His island paradise is already dead. What if it's worse to know who actually killed it?
Julian's right that Quentin doesn't know him. Not really. But Quentin knows what he would want. And thanks to Sophie, he knows what Julian will do when he doesn't all the information. So he straightens up, looks Julian in the eye, and says in a clear, if slightly hurried, voice:]
The humans didn't take Krakoa from us. We did. Mutants. I was... closer than most. Saw it happen.
[And there it is. Not a good option. There are no good options. But it's the truth. Quentin continues before Julian has time to reply, waving his hand to cut off any further (understandable) accusations of self-sabotage.]
I'm not saying this so you'll get mad, be my "punishment dispenser" or whatever. You said you'd do the same as me, right? Means you probably oughta know what I actually did.