[ Quentin nods: forgiven, but grudgingly. He sits up a little bit so that he's more on top of Felipe's should than locked underneath it--but still close enough that each deep, measured breath in pulls Felipe's smell to him, just body and tarnished jewelry, the sun and sweat off his hair. He mumbles into the hollow of his throat: ] Me too. I'm sorry.
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...I just wanted...I wanted to know you better.