"And what if I...don't, anymore? Maybe I should shut the door and call it done." Quentin replies, barely moving his shoulders in a small shrug. It weirdly feels safer to stay small, unnoticed. "I got fired over it. I apparently died for it, if what the kid said is true."

He laughs mirthlessly, drawing himself up to scrub a hand down his face. He doesn't touch the drink again. "Quit while I'm ahead, right? Seems like a sign by now."