[ Shit. This is not what he wanted, where he thought this was going. He's pushed clients past their tipping point before, especially in his early days when he was still finding the sweet spot with his magic. Too little, and the pain takes over and makes them beg for an end. Too much, and they're not themselves anymore. He should be able to course correct and find the balance again—but Quentin sobs and pleads and Harlan is back in that fucking cabin.
It's cold, winter, sun rising through the mist off the lake, arms itchy with dried blood, Ben's corpse pale and stiff against the opposite wall. It's too quiet here and his leg is asleep but he can't bring himself to move. Maybe... maybe... There's no rulebook on ghosts. Sometimes the impossible happens. He could still come back.
Harlan does his best to shake it off, unsure how much Quentin will be able to pick up from this strange psychic connection. ]
I can't. I'm sorry, I can't, just... You're in control. Not— Not me. You can go numb if you want to. You can... let it feel like cumming again. [ What the fuck is he saying? He can't stop his mind from ricocheting, unraveling alongside Quentin. ] Let it release, and then bring yourself back.
no subject
It's cold, winter, sun rising through the mist off the lake, arms itchy with dried blood, Ben's corpse pale and stiff against the opposite wall. It's too quiet here and his leg is asleep but he can't bring himself to move. Maybe... maybe... There's no rulebook on ghosts. Sometimes the impossible happens. He could still come back.
Harlan does his best to shake it off, unsure how much Quentin will be able to pick up from this strange psychic connection. ]
I can't. I'm sorry, I can't, just... You're in control. Not— Not me. You can go numb if you want to. You can... let it feel like cumming again. [ What the fuck is he saying? He can't stop his mind from ricocheting, unraveling alongside Quentin. ] Let it release, and then bring yourself back.