Quentin gives Norman a dubious look as he moves close enough to snatch the glass up, and take a rather inelegant swallow of it. The burn down his throat makes his eyes water a little.
Quentin refuses to be indebted to someone again who could take what's supposedly his away. If Norman gives him the deed, the man could take it back. If something's built, there could be extra keys that aren't in Quentin's hands. If somebody else builds shit for him- It's not his. And he needs something that's his for once, like Mysterio or his illusions.
(And he's been saving up those ridiculous not-arcade tokens in the hopes of getting something his, just one fucking thing-)
"You want to hear what I want? What I want is for you to stop lying to me. Stop pretending you even care about me, besides soothing your own little guilt." He sets the half-full glass back down on the table with a clink. He meets Norman's gaze as unflinching as he can manage. "I'm a reminder. Men like you don't like those. You can throw as much at me as you want, and I don't want any of it. I want my own life without somebody else's grubby fingerprints all over it-"
But there is a bit of a lie in there. It's enough for him to pale a little as he reaches the tail-end, feel some nausea rising up in his throat. His hands are shaking where they're pressed against the table as he looks at the other man, angry now. "If you put something in this, I swear to god-"
cw: mild nausea, assumed drink tampering I guess? (bad faerie reaction to lying)
Quentin refuses to be indebted to someone again who could take what's supposedly his away. If Norman gives him the deed, the man could take it back. If something's built, there could be extra keys that aren't in Quentin's hands. If somebody else builds shit for him- It's not his. And he needs something that's his for once, like Mysterio or his illusions.
(And he's been saving up those ridiculous not-arcade tokens in the hopes of getting something his, just one fucking thing-)
"You want to hear what I want? What I want is for you to stop lying to me. Stop pretending you even care about me, besides soothing your own little guilt." He sets the half-full glass back down on the table with a clink. He meets Norman's gaze as unflinching as he can manage. "I'm a reminder. Men like you don't like those. You can throw as much at me as you want, and I don't want any of it. I want my own life without somebody else's grubby fingerprints all over it-"
But there is a bit of a lie in there. It's enough for him to pale a little as he reaches the tail-end, feel some nausea rising up in his throat. His hands are shaking where they're pressed against the table as he looks at the other man, angry now. "If you put something in this, I swear to god-"