Oh, Quentin could be far more spiteful, Norman. Right now he's trying to keep himself composed, wrapped together with a thin wire of restraint. The only problem is that his old work clothes don't feel like armor anymore. They set his teeth on edge, feel a hair too tight even if he knows they're fake here.

Quentin doesn't try to hide how he rolls his eyes a little as he crosses his arms over his chest. The gesture is... some degree of defensive. Means more to go through than just fabric and carapace if Norman tries something.

(Quentin doesn't think Norman will, but that's what fucked him over the first time: he assumed.)

"Can you really, truly put your money where your mouth is? Or are you lacking the capacity for it." And there's a hint of spite just for you, Norman. Quentin parroting Alton's words while a bit dead-eyed, just to see the other man squirm.

"It's a lot of pretty words, I'll give you that much. Know the right way to... stroke a man's ego." The look turns into something far more knowing then, but Quentin has some restraint as he goes to finally sit. "Show me you know how to do more than throw a few corporate apologies around, please. I'd like to see you try."