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He had no more control than anyone else. Anything he says to the contrary is him trying to save face.
Because he learned that he's not the Big Bad Wolf here. And I need to remind him of that. Are you going to help me, Quentin?
Because he learned that he's not the Big Bad Wolf here. And I need to remind him of that. Are you going to help me, Quentin?
[Takes him a couple days to get comfortable with the freakiness of a telepathic network, but - what, it's like dictation on an iphone just... directly out of your own head, right? Hey Alexa, write something slutty:]
Yo, hotstuff. WYD?
Yo, hotstuff. WYD?
[ A natural rookie! And not a person Quentin genuinely expected to hear from again. It takes him a second to come up with the names of people that he's never talked to by psychic connection before that would also be calling him hotstuff-- ]
Joey?
I'm working, wtf is up, how are you?
Joey?
I'm working, wtf is up, how are you?
I'm bored as shit and missing my macchiatos
How's the whorehouse?
[Ha ha, what a funny joke.]
How's the whorehouse?
[Ha ha, what a funny joke.]
It was a good look on you
gonna tell me you're actually a nice kid who made a mistake, but is back on the straight and narrow now?
gonna tell me you're actually a nice kid who made a mistake, but is back on the straight and narrow now?
If it is possible for you to visit Cesare's dreams over the next couple nights, I would like you to tell me what they're about. I'm fairly certain from his reactions that I'm in his dreams and he's concerned I can see them. I just want a few specifics that I can relay that could only come from his dreams, to reinforce this idea he has in his head.
I dodged the question when he asked me if I could see them. That's when I thought of you.
I dodged the question when he asked me if I could see them. That's when I thought of you.
I don't know if it's possible, but...I'll let you know. If I can see anything.
[ Maybe. Probably. He's annoyed with Cesare right now. He does think the man could stand to be taken down a peg. But...Ianthe is a totally different creature. She's intense. ]
Just--promise to be careful. Don't take it too far.
[ Maybe. Probably. He's annoyed with Cesare right now. He does think the man could stand to be taken down a peg. But...Ianthe is a totally different creature. She's intense. ]
Just--promise to be careful. Don't take it too far.
[There's a pause as Ianthe considered his words.]
What do you consider too far?
What do you consider too far?
It's not my intention to make him snap. [Not at this point in time. Maybe someday in the future if he became a real problem.] I just want to fuck with him.
It would've been smarter of you just to turn me down
I like a challenge, Quen
the chase is half the fucking fun for a dog like me
I like a challenge, Quen
the chase is half the fucking fun for a dog like me
[Yes. This is all good. With an extra tidbit. Thank you, Quentin.]
Can you send me an image of this woman so I can see her with my mind's eye?
Can you send me an image of this woman so I can see her with my mind's eye?
idk
[ Doesn't know if he can share it accurately. Doesn't know if he wants too, doesn't know if he likes the feeling of passing something so hot and precious to someone with so many teeth. But he thinks of Cesare's fingers hard around his face, his demands to have every goddamn thing he's told to stay away from, his accusations of Quentin being a liar and an oathbreaker and a whore--
[ The woman that sketches into Ianthe's mind is white and soft as marzipan, cheeks to bare breasts to the swell of her hip. The rich blonde of her hair almost tilts into red, but stops short of the color of her lips. He pushes his memory of the way it felt, too: a swell of affection and obsession, a ribbon of panic and guilt lacing through. ]
[ Doesn't know if he can share it accurately. Doesn't know if he wants too, doesn't know if he likes the feeling of passing something so hot and precious to someone with so many teeth. But he thinks of Cesare's fingers hard around his face, his demands to have every goddamn thing he's told to stay away from, his accusations of Quentin being a liar and an oathbreaker and a whore--
[ The woman that sketches into Ianthe's mind is white and soft as marzipan, cheeks to bare breasts to the swell of her hip. The rich blonde of her hair almost tilts into red, but stops short of the color of her lips. He pushes his memory of the way it felt, too: a swell of affection and obsession, a ribbon of panic and guilt lacing through. ]
Wait. You said she sometimes replaced me in the dreams. Am I naked in them too?
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