[ For all that he's scolded Nikolai about being so reserved--nearly secretive--Quentin doesn't talk much about his past beyond the bare minimum. Nikolai has been careful with him in this arena as much as anywhere else. As they reach for each other now, in this odd space, it's hard to keep those memories quiet. It bubbles out of him like soap from a sponge, easy but damnably bitter. ]

Hundreds. Thousands, maybe. Don't ask me about how, I don't wanna think about it now. Every way you can imagine. Is that good enough?