[ He watches the purse and press of Jin Guangyao's mouth as he silently inventories the things he has to do tonight. Eat. Study. Clean. Try to sleep. Try to dream. But his fingers uncurl along Jin Guangyao's cheek, fiddle in his hair as Quentin chews the inside of his lip. Fucking hell. ]
I'm...pretty sure my schedule's open. But if we're gonna eat...lemme take you to the tavern. There's nothing upstairs.
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I'm...pretty sure my schedule's open. But if we're gonna eat...lemme take you to the tavern. There's nothing upstairs.