Arthur & Quentin | Wednesday Morning

[x-longshot.livejournal.com]

Quentin and Arthur pass time in the XFi offices on a slow day.


The brief respite in summer weather was all too brief, and New York City plunged right back to muggy humidity and boiling temperatures. Quentin stamped into the XFI office, clad head-to-toe in black outerwear, and glared enviously at Arthur, who was already at his desk flipping coins or some shit, as if he himself had stolen all the air conditioning and was denying it to Quentin. Knowing Quentin's luck (and Arthur's, for that matter), he probably had.

The telepath grunted a greeting before he, as routine, checked out his phone before so much as glancing at the stacks of paper on his desk.

Arthur, for his part, had the gall to whistle cheerfully as he rolled a coin over his hand while using the other to wave to Quentin.

"Hey," he greeted merrily before the coin seemingly dropped through his hand and onto the table, spinning.

Quentin grunted something that might have been construed as a greeting. He did not look up as the coffee pot lifted up off its base and floated over to his desk and filled up his mug. It was halfway back to its base when Quentin finally looked up and, possibly delusional from heatstroke, looked over at Arthur. "You want any?" he offered.

The man's smile practically lit up half the room. "Yes! I'm almost out!"

If Quentin weren't currently Quentin, he might notice that Arthur was the exact sort of perky and twitchy that not only came from being Arthur, but also about ten previous cups of coffee. The man got up, as if to help, but stopped in his tracks as if unsure how to assist with telekin-coffee actively happening.

The only excuse Quentin had for even daring to show a hint of mirth at Arthur's typical enthusiasm for the mundane was that it was early in the morning and he couldn't think straight. The pot found its way to Arthur's hand before the telekinetic let go and he, using his own hands, picked up his cup. "Why're you playing with that coin?" he asked. "Don't you have work to do?"

Arthur refilled his cup happily. "I like keeping my hands busy as I wait for emails. I did send a birthday gift to Officer Wayne's four year old from the third precinct. Well, five now. Charming kid."

He did a little flourish with the hand not holding the coffee, producing the coin again from seemingly nowhere.

"I admire you spending Frost's and Worthington's money as if it's your own, even if you're spending it on some pig's kid," Quentin said, leaning back in his seat and kicking up his booted feet onto his desk. "How'd you do that? The coin thing, not the credit card appropriation. Although that's a good skill, too."

Arthur stared at Quentin for a minute like he was having trouble parsing the man's words, but then let it roll off his good mood completely. "It's easy! Just takes practice."

"Show me." The words left Quentin's mouth before he even realized it. He blinked, his expression looking like he was trying to explain to himself why he'd ever make such a banal request. Was there whiskey in the coffee? There must have been.

"Show me... what?" The blond echoed. It was a classic leading question, but leave it to Arthur to sound downright encouraging over politeness than condescending.

That earned Arthur some massive stink eye, but Quentin grudgingly acquiesced. "Show me please," he offered. At least it was easy to feign politeness when talking to someone so pretty.

This lit up Arthur's expression with the type of exuberance he usually saved for small children, small dogs, and either of those in costume. "I would be happy to! It'll be nice. We haven't had a chance to chat, and getting this right could take days." The bright pitch in his tone never wavered; like something taking days was incredibly fortuitous.

"I mean, if it's that or do work, it's not even a question." Quentin rolled his chair over to Arthur's desk to sit kitty-corner from him. "Okay. Let's see this trick again."

"Gladly! Watch closely." And again, out came the coin. Again, it disappeared.