Quentin & Amanda, Monday evening
Oct. 2nd, 2017 06:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsFinally able to bring himself outside, Quentin runs into his other savior and they have a little chat about what happened.
Even though autumn was only beginning, Quentin donned his wool peacoat before climbing up to the roof for a smoke break. He was still getting used to this whole body thing again, and he was particularly sensitive to changes in temperature. It was like he was going through menopause. Hard to believe it had only been a week since he literally melted into ectoplasmic goo because a psychic parasite hijacked his brain and used him to torture his . . . well, not friends, but people he mildly tolerated.
Still head-blind, he did not notice someone already on the roof until he sat down and took his vape pen out of his pocket. The witch who had, by restraining Jean, helped Quentin condemn himself to death, which saved his life. He nodded a greeting at her.
"Hey."
"Hey." Amanda nodded back and flicked ash off her cigarette. She'd come up to the roof for some quiet thinking time - even with Quentin back and in one piece, she couldn't shake off the feeling something was off. At the sight of the resurrected telepath, however, she managed a slight grin. "How's it going, back in the land of the living?"
"No flying cars and that orangutan is still president. Should've kept me on ice a little longer." He pressed the power button on his pen and gave it a second to warm up before taking a hit. "At least no one raided my room while I was gone."
"Yeah, next time we'll remember." Amanda snorted a little, then turned serious. "And for the record... sorry I let you get killed, by the way. Needs of the many and all, yeah?"
Quentin sat down a few feet away from her and ran a hand through his now naturally pink hair. "'Get killed.' Passive voice. Come on, I had at least a little agency in my suicide. Whatever." He shrugged. "It had to be done. I can remember . . . right before I got there, I . . . it killed the cabbie who drove me. Blew a blood vessel in his brain and crashed him into a wall. It was so easy, too. Breaking open the window was harder than murdering a man. Think of what it would have done if I'd let it."
Amanda grimaced. "Yeah, got me on that one. Let me try again - sorry you had to kill yourself and I didn't let Jean stop you." She took a deep drag from her cigarette. "And I know. That it had to be done. Didn't have you down as the self-sacrificing hero type, but there you were." Her tone was more teasing than anything on the last.
He gave her a Look. "Don't use the H word. That's offensive." His lips quirked upward for just a second, though, before he brought back his resting bitch face. "Like I said, I'd never live it down if someone laid down their life for me. I don't need that kind of responsibility."
"The man whose life you save, blah, blah, blah..." Amanda agreed. "'S one of the reasons I joined up with the Trenchcoats, rather than the leather brigade, being able to make my own choices about things and not have to carry the whole "hero" label." She chuckled. "Well, that and I'd been expelled from the school, so they didn't exactly think of me as leather grade material." Shaking her head, she glanced at Quentin. "What made you go the private eye route?"
"Wait wait wait," Quentin interrupted her, holding up his hand. "Chuckles expelled you? How the hell'd they let you back in here? That's the worst expulsion policy I ever heard."
"I got expelled from here when it was an actual school," Amanda explained. "These days, I'm rehabilitated. Responsible-ish adult and all."
"He's really lowered his standards over the years, hasn't he?" Quentin asked wryly before taking another hit. "I'm here 'cuz, well, where else would I go, really? At least here, I can still abuse Papa Quire's credit card and he doesn't cut me off." Even though he was surely tired of Quentin's exorbitant bills. "And someone's gotta do something to save actual mutants. Our biggest threat isn't superpowered psychos, it's our neighbors."
"I won't disagree that we have to be careful out there, but I wouldn't discount the superpowered psychos. Especially after last week." Amanda snorted.
"Touche." He looked down at his pen and tapped it against his fingers as if there were ash to remove. He was fidgeting, he realized, and sighed. "And by the way . . . thanks. For stopping Jean. You probably saved the world by keeping that thing out of her. She's such a fucking martyr, you know? Thinks she can do everything. Save everyone. She's . . ." He shook his head. "Ridiculous." That was as strong a word as he could find for her.
"Eh, 's part of the job description. Stop people being bloody stupid." Amanda shrugged. "I don't know if it's 'cause she's a doctor or if it's because she's been tied to this place for practically ever, but yeah, she's got the whole martyr thing in spades. I don't know if she even realises. But hopefully this time at least she'll understand she can't fix everything." She couldn't mention just how accurate Quentin's assessment of the damage that could have been done was, but he seemed to understand any way. "'S not easy, tho', making the call. Someone taught me personal isn't the same as important when it comes to making choices, but fuck if it isn't hard to separate all the time."
Quentin nodded even if he didn't fully understand just what she meant. "What was it you were doing that caught Shadow King's attention, anyway? One minute I was at Jean's office stalking her like a creeper, and then all of a sudden it felt like I was sinking and drowning. No, that's not right. More like, someone was holding my head under water."
"A spell. Trying to flush him out of the astral plane with magic." Amanda took a drag of her cigarette and blew smoke out through her nose while she considered her words. "We didn't know he was hiding in you, see. So we were trying to make the plane too uncomfortable for him to hide in."
"So he got stuck in me instead," Quentin concluded. He couldn't blame her, not really. Who expects collateral damage from pest fumigation? The infestation would have continued unabated regardless. "Worst birthday ever. I hope this isn't any indication of how the rest of my year's gonna be."
"Don't test fate," Amanda warned him, only half-joking. "We're Murphy's butt-monkeys around here and fucks knows what'll happen next."
"He's gonna be back some day. Frost and whatshisface did a thing to imprison it, but it got out once before, so." He needed stronger stuff if he was going to think about this nightmare scenario.
"Then we watch and wait. And get the jump on him this time," was Amanda's reply. It wasn't that she wasn't concerned, but with everything going on in the world, sometimes you had to prioritise. "Hopefully the magic enema we gave the astral plane will make it uncomfortable for him, at least."
It went without saying that Quentin hoped it suffered, if it even had the capability of suffering, so he did not say it. He lay down and blew out a big tuft of vapor. "Well, maybe I'm home free, anyway. Telepathy's shot, so brain's closed for business. Well, not closed closed. You know what I mean."
"Never underestimate the brain's ability to bounce back - like I said, we're Murphy's butt-monkeys here. But now we know that we're looking for it, we'll be ready next time. If there is one." Amanda stubbed out her cigarette and tossed the butt into the ubiquitous sand bucket that was left for the mansion's smokers. "I'd better go - magic class in ten and if I don't get down there, Stephen will have time to plan another prank and I'll have to pretend to be mad at him. Take care of yourself, yeah? And if you need anything, just ping."
Quentin's gaze followed her as she stood and got ready to leave. "Thanks." No smart comment, no sarcasm. Just gratitude.
Even though autumn was only beginning, Quentin donned his wool peacoat before climbing up to the roof for a smoke break. He was still getting used to this whole body thing again, and he was particularly sensitive to changes in temperature. It was like he was going through menopause. Hard to believe it had only been a week since he literally melted into ectoplasmic goo because a psychic parasite hijacked his brain and used him to torture his . . . well, not friends, but people he mildly tolerated.
Still head-blind, he did not notice someone already on the roof until he sat down and took his vape pen out of his pocket. The witch who had, by restraining Jean, helped Quentin condemn himself to death, which saved his life. He nodded a greeting at her.
"Hey."
"Hey." Amanda nodded back and flicked ash off her cigarette. She'd come up to the roof for some quiet thinking time - even with Quentin back and in one piece, she couldn't shake off the feeling something was off. At the sight of the resurrected telepath, however, she managed a slight grin. "How's it going, back in the land of the living?"
"No flying cars and that orangutan is still president. Should've kept me on ice a little longer." He pressed the power button on his pen and gave it a second to warm up before taking a hit. "At least no one raided my room while I was gone."
"Yeah, next time we'll remember." Amanda snorted a little, then turned serious. "And for the record... sorry I let you get killed, by the way. Needs of the many and all, yeah?"
Quentin sat down a few feet away from her and ran a hand through his now naturally pink hair. "'Get killed.' Passive voice. Come on, I had at least a little agency in my suicide. Whatever." He shrugged. "It had to be done. I can remember . . . right before I got there, I . . . it killed the cabbie who drove me. Blew a blood vessel in his brain and crashed him into a wall. It was so easy, too. Breaking open the window was harder than murdering a man. Think of what it would have done if I'd let it."
Amanda grimaced. "Yeah, got me on that one. Let me try again - sorry you had to kill yourself and I didn't let Jean stop you." She took a deep drag from her cigarette. "And I know. That it had to be done. Didn't have you down as the self-sacrificing hero type, but there you were." Her tone was more teasing than anything on the last.
He gave her a Look. "Don't use the H word. That's offensive." His lips quirked upward for just a second, though, before he brought back his resting bitch face. "Like I said, I'd never live it down if someone laid down their life for me. I don't need that kind of responsibility."
"The man whose life you save, blah, blah, blah..." Amanda agreed. "'S one of the reasons I joined up with the Trenchcoats, rather than the leather brigade, being able to make my own choices about things and not have to carry the whole "hero" label." She chuckled. "Well, that and I'd been expelled from the school, so they didn't exactly think of me as leather grade material." Shaking her head, she glanced at Quentin. "What made you go the private eye route?"
"Wait wait wait," Quentin interrupted her, holding up his hand. "Chuckles expelled you? How the hell'd they let you back in here? That's the worst expulsion policy I ever heard."
"I got expelled from here when it was an actual school," Amanda explained. "These days, I'm rehabilitated. Responsible-ish adult and all."
"He's really lowered his standards over the years, hasn't he?" Quentin asked wryly before taking another hit. "I'm here 'cuz, well, where else would I go, really? At least here, I can still abuse Papa Quire's credit card and he doesn't cut me off." Even though he was surely tired of Quentin's exorbitant bills. "And someone's gotta do something to save actual mutants. Our biggest threat isn't superpowered psychos, it's our neighbors."
"I won't disagree that we have to be careful out there, but I wouldn't discount the superpowered psychos. Especially after last week." Amanda snorted.
"Touche." He looked down at his pen and tapped it against his fingers as if there were ash to remove. He was fidgeting, he realized, and sighed. "And by the way . . . thanks. For stopping Jean. You probably saved the world by keeping that thing out of her. She's such a fucking martyr, you know? Thinks she can do everything. Save everyone. She's . . ." He shook his head. "Ridiculous." That was as strong a word as he could find for her.
"Eh, 's part of the job description. Stop people being bloody stupid." Amanda shrugged. "I don't know if it's 'cause she's a doctor or if it's because she's been tied to this place for practically ever, but yeah, she's got the whole martyr thing in spades. I don't know if she even realises. But hopefully this time at least she'll understand she can't fix everything." She couldn't mention just how accurate Quentin's assessment of the damage that could have been done was, but he seemed to understand any way. "'S not easy, tho', making the call. Someone taught me personal isn't the same as important when it comes to making choices, but fuck if it isn't hard to separate all the time."
Quentin nodded even if he didn't fully understand just what she meant. "What was it you were doing that caught Shadow King's attention, anyway? One minute I was at Jean's office stalking her like a creeper, and then all of a sudden it felt like I was sinking and drowning. No, that's not right. More like, someone was holding my head under water."
"A spell. Trying to flush him out of the astral plane with magic." Amanda took a drag of her cigarette and blew smoke out through her nose while she considered her words. "We didn't know he was hiding in you, see. So we were trying to make the plane too uncomfortable for him to hide in."
"So he got stuck in me instead," Quentin concluded. He couldn't blame her, not really. Who expects collateral damage from pest fumigation? The infestation would have continued unabated regardless. "Worst birthday ever. I hope this isn't any indication of how the rest of my year's gonna be."
"Don't test fate," Amanda warned him, only half-joking. "We're Murphy's butt-monkeys around here and fucks knows what'll happen next."
"He's gonna be back some day. Frost and whatshisface did a thing to imprison it, but it got out once before, so." He needed stronger stuff if he was going to think about this nightmare scenario.
"Then we watch and wait. And get the jump on him this time," was Amanda's reply. It wasn't that she wasn't concerned, but with everything going on in the world, sometimes you had to prioritise. "Hopefully the magic enema we gave the astral plane will make it uncomfortable for him, at least."
It went without saying that Quentin hoped it suffered, if it even had the capability of suffering, so he did not say it. He lay down and blew out a big tuft of vapor. "Well, maybe I'm home free, anyway. Telepathy's shot, so brain's closed for business. Well, not closed closed. You know what I mean."
"Never underestimate the brain's ability to bounce back - like I said, we're Murphy's butt-monkeys here. But now we know that we're looking for it, we'll be ready next time. If there is one." Amanda stubbed out her cigarette and tossed the butt into the ubiquitous sand bucket that was left for the mansion's smokers. "I'd better go - magic class in ten and if I don't get down there, Stephen will have time to plan another prank and I'll have to pretend to be mad at him. Take care of yourself, yeah? And if you need anything, just ping."
Quentin's gaze followed her as she stood and got ready to leave. "Thanks." No smart comment, no sarcasm. Just gratitude.
