Quentin and Effy- Can't Stop Singing
Sep. 5th, 2015 04:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_main Effy finds the boy responsible for all the singing. They end up getting stoned together, as you do. Warning: recreational drug use.
This was fucking bonkers. Literally fucking bonkers.
Songs--everywhere.
There literally were not enough words to express her displeasure. But now was not the time to not try. She had heard through the rumor mill, also known as her classmates thoughts, that Quentin was to blame.
Well, Effy couldn't say she was overly surprised.
Now to find the fucker and thoroughly chew him out. She hesitated outside the infirmary, not really keen on entering. Instead, she thought, You there wanker?
Quentin groaned and pulled the pillow over his head, which needless to say, did absolutely nothing to quiet Effy's voice in his head. Hey Eff. Kind of having a migraine, here. Call back later. Or not. Actually, his head was feeling mostly better, thanks to Betsy knocking him out, but there was no way he was leaving the infirmary until everyone stopped singing.
No fucker, you've got songs in my head. All. Fucking. Day.
I'm not admitting to that. Except that honestly, his shields were a mess, so she likely already knew anyway. Whatever. It wasn't like he hadn't had songs in his head whenever he was conscious. Did you catch what I did to Rankin? He offered up the memory for her amusement.
Amusing, Effy remarked dryly, leaning against the wall with a slight frown. You wrecked havoc on my brain all day. No shields, mo' songs, mo' problems, so they say.
That part was a total accident, Quentin whined. C'mon Eff, it was an experiment gone wrong. Gimme a break here. You've gotta admit, some of it was hilarious.
Sure, hilarious. Let's call it that. Why were you experimenting with songs?
Quentin rolled his eyes. Virtual mental reality, actually. The songs weren't part of the original plan. Why don't you just come in and talk? My brain hurts.
Effy rolled her eyes but pushed off the wall and walked in. "No nurse?"
"Eh, in and out." Quentin shrugged, winced a little, and pushed himself up so he was sitting. "Betsy suggested I stay here until everyone who wants to kill me gets distracted by something bright and shiny."
"That may be a while. Years, even," Effy responded, choosing a new wall to lean against.
"Please. Most of these morons have the attention span of a gnat." Quentin grimaced. "Besides, I don't get that long. Apparently, Lensherr figures the perfect punishment is to force me to get them to rise above their current level of stupidity."
"Oh? How so?" Effy asked. Yes, most of their classmates were rather...unfortunate. However, Quentin was a pompous arse.
"Tutoring." Quentin shuddered. "They'll get the schedule to me by next week. I figure they're thinking that me committing suicide will make for less paperwork than someone killing me outright."
"Those poor souls you're being inflicted upon," Effy told him with a sigh.
"Hey, there's inflicting upon me, too. Some sympathy here, huh?" He arched his eyebrows and smirked, just a little. "Besides, you know you're just annoyed you didn't think of it all first."
"Think of forcing an unwillingly subject to sing as a form of revenge?" Effy asked, quirking her brow again. Jesus this boy was full of himself. Deciding to fuck with him a bit, she tilted her head and squinted slightly, moving forward, "I prefer my participants to be more...voluntary."
Please. Quentin smirked a bit more and quirked his own eyebrows higher (yeah, okay, maybe his eyes were widening a little, he was a sixteen year old guy; sue him). My shields are crap at the moment, he pointed out. Not buying it, Eff.
"Can't blame a girl for trying...especially if it puts a pin in an ego like yours," Effy retorted with a shrug.
"Yeah yeah, whatever." Quentin rolled his eyes and waved her off, feeling both amused and a little disappointed. Okay, granted, it was Effy, and there was no way she'd be interested in doing anything with him except maybe...
Huh. Quentin gave her a calculating look. You got anything in your pharmacopia that can shut me down for a while?
Depends... Effy was curious about how far he was willing to go. Although Effy would never actually sleep with him, for fear of what Becky would think--non-stop--if she ever found out, she was more than willing to fuck him up. Wanting to block, or wanting to be completely out of it?
Completely out of it, how? He'd been drunk before. He had not so wonderful (if someone skimpy in places) memories of being drunk. He definitely hadn't enjoyed the following morning.
Again, depends, Effy repeated with a shrug. She offered up different memories of hers, ranging from the party incident with an unnamed drug in a syringe to E to spliff, and everything that Effy had tried inbetween.
Fuck. Quentin's eyebrows raised. He'd known Effy got into that stuff, but he hadn't even realized half of the things she was showing him even existed. The last one, he replied finally. He sat up. Just gotta figure out how to get out of here without anyone noticing.
"Well I don't see a nurse here..."
"I'm a little more worried about who's out there," Quentin admitted. A quick scan suggested no one (or at least, no one with a brain) was in the immediate vicinity, though, so he got to his feet. "Where to?"
"If Becky walks in on you in our room, we'll have an issue. I do need to go by there though and get the stuff," Effy responded with a shrug.
Quentin winced. Running into Becky with Effy would be bad. Running into Becky if she was still singing might be worse. "Boathouse?" he suggested.
Boathouse, Effy agreed, turning around to leave without another word.
Quentin grinned and headed out as well. Shields still down (and fuck, he was going to have to get a handle on that, but his head was still throbbing and he didn't really care enough to bother right now) he scanned the minds in the immediate vicinity, and was grateful to realize that hardly anyone had apparently put his name together with the day's events. He definitely owed Betsy one. Maybe Effy'd have an idea about what to do? She was in a remarkably helpful mood.
Or she was just glad to have someone to get high with. That seemed more likely.
In any case, he made it to the boathouse before she did, and let himself in, then plopped down on the nearest chair and closed his eyes.
Spliff and skins in hand, Effy meandered down to the boathouse. She could hear Quentin's thoughts from like a kilometer away.
It was rather unfortunate.
Yours aren't exactly a treat either, y'know, Quentin observed as he picked up on Effy's.
Glad to be of service, Effy responded dryly.
Oh yeah, you're practically radiating that "Help your neighbor" vibe. Quentin smirked. Besides, you started it.
"Do you want the drugs or not?"
"Hey, I'm kidding." Quentin rolled his eyes. "Lighten up, huh? And yes, I want the drugs."
Effy tossed him the baggie and then extended the skins. "Can you roll yourself, or will you be needing help?" She couldn't help her smirk or challenge in her words.
Quentin caught the bag awkwardly and narrowed his eyes. "Preeeetty sure I can figure it out," he observed. He took a quick peek at her memory (just for tips, obviously) and got started.
Helping herself to some as well, Effy quickly and easily rolled herself one. She pulled out a lighter from her bra and lit it before taking a long hit.
Much better.
Quentin smirked a little as Effy pulled out her lighter (no point hiding it from another telepath anyway), and held out his hand for it when finished. No pockets?
Does it look like this outfit has pockets? Effy asked in reply, hand gesturing to her barely there skirt and top.
Hey, trying not to stare, here, Quentin pointed out. His smirk grew bigger. Though I'm not sure there's enough fabric there for a pocket. Did you dress up just to come chew me out?
"Don't flatter yourself, tosser," Effy responded with an eyeroll. Maybe the weed would help Quentin be less of an arse?
"Well, you could flatter me instead. Just for a change of pace." Quentin smirked, plucked the lighter from her hand, and awkwardly used it to light up. He took a slow drag off it, emulating what he'd picked up from Effy - and promptly started choking.
At this point Effy's eyes could get stuck in an eyeroll. She gave him a pointed look. Just because monkey sees does not mean monkey can do. She took a long pull, quirked a brow, and then let a steady stream of smoke out in his direction.
Show off. Alright, it wasn't exactly inspired, but hey, it definitely fit. Besides, coughing fit aside, Quentin's head felt...well, weird wasn't a very precise adjective, but it worked well enough. And hey, choking. Inspired would have to wait. "Fine," he asked once he managed to breathe once again, "how do I do this without killing myself? Seeing as you're the expert?"
"Slow breath in, but deep. Then slowly let the smoke out," Effy suggested, trying to think back. After all, it had been quite a while since she had been a newb at smoking, well, anything.
"Right." Quentin tried it again, inhaling slowly, then exhaled just as deliberately, definitely feeling the effects this time. Not bad, he ventured, leaning back on his arm. "I can see the appeal." Yeah, all the crap was still there, and he was probably still going to die as soon as Rankin found him, but it didn't seem to matter all that much.
"Just the tip of the iceberg," Effy admitted easily, taking a longer drag in the nice silence the spliff seemed to be inspiring in Quentin. Perhaps she should give him drugs more often.
Quentin laughed. A genuine, amused laugh, containing none of his usual sarcasm or derision.
"Yeeah, but then you'd have to actually, y'know, talk to me." He waved his finger at her. "Can't have that. The hot girls never talk to the geeks unless they're setting them up."
"It's not the geek part I take issue with," Effy responded with an easy smirk. The weed was taking off the usual edge of talking to Quentin.
"So? What's your issue, then?" Quentin took another drag, managing (almost) not to cough, and closed his eyes. Huh. Quiet. Quiet didn't suck. He was having a really hard time figuring out what Effy said aloud and what she didn't, but whatever. She had to be pretty used to having that problem herself.
"The arrogant prick part."
"Hey, I'm not an arrogant prick!" Quentin protested, genuinely surprised. Arrogant - yeah, okay. He kind of rocked the arrogant thing. But a prick?
Is there a term you'd prefer? Effy asked lazily, allowing the spliff to relax her muscles. She closed her eyes--this was the most at peace she had been all day.
I can think of a few, yeah. Honestly, a prick? He wasn't a prick. Or, well, if he was, he rocked at it. Obviously. There were at least a few people he was on speaking terms with since his personality makeover. It definitely beat his old school.
"What would you choose then?" Effy asked, figuring it was at least interesting to see how he perceived himself.
Quentin shrugged and took another hit. What do you care? It's not like I don't know you don't like me, Eff. I'm not an idiot.
"Would never accuse you of that," Effy responded with a shrug and a drag. Of the many things Quentin was, idiot was not among them. "Do you want me to like you?"
Huh. Good question, actually. "It wouldn't suck," he admitted
Effy finally folded herself into a nearby chair. She tilted her head curiously, "How much?" She allowed her eyes to trail up and down his body.
Quentin rolled his eyes and grinned. "You don't mean it." Okay, fine, he was guessing - whatever this shit was, it was making it hard to focus in on her thoughts. But he figured it was a safe enough bet.
No cheating... "I wouldn't fuck a cheat," Effy continued but smirked all the same.
Quentin's eyebrows shot up and he smirked. "I'm not. But you wouldn't fuck me anyway. You're just fucking with me." Which - yeah, okay, that was pretty much why he liked her. Effy played the game.
"That's life isn't it? Always playing a game..." Effy often got existential when high, mostly because she felt like she was finally hearing her own thoughts.
Unless they weren't actually hers. She couldn't really tell anymore.
"Pretty much," Quentin allowed. He took another hit. "I just want to be the one running it for a change." He smirked. "The Overlord."
"Best of luck with the 'loyal minions' part," Effy chuckled, smirking back and lazily taking another hit.
"Hey, it's a work in progress," Quentin protested. "Besides, I've got Becky." He smirked. "Want to be a minion? Or co-Overlord? I could be talked into that." He relaxed in his chair and crossed his ankles.
"Becky's idolation of you is something I'll never grasp," Effy told him, shaking her head and deciding not to answer the other part of his question. Although co-Overlord could be a rewarding title.
"Yeeaaaah, not sure I grasp that either, to be honest." Quentin took a hit and closed his eyes. Not that it wasn't cool to have someone actually appreciate him for once, but yeah. Becky took it to some pretty extreme levels. "Not that I'm about to talk her out of it, you understand."
"I understand the appeal of the situation for you...but doesn't it feel a bit like taking candy from a baby?"
Quentin snorted and gave Effy an incredulous look. "Becky had me on the floor serenading her before I was at the school for an hour. Preeetty sure she can take care of herself."
"Harmless," Effy pointed out to him with a quirked eyebrow. She took another drag and further relaxed into her chair.
"Hey, it's not like I'm going to do anything to hurt her," Quentin protested, feeling...actually, a little hurt. Huh. "I like Becky alright."
"Wow...you actually care," Effy murmured, a little surprised.
Quentin blinked. "I do not," he protested. Did he?
Fuck. Okay, maybe he did. A little. Becky was alright, when she wasn't hanging all over him. Actually, she was pretty much alright even when she was, because he had to admit, the attention was pretty cool, and it was nice that someone finally recognized that he was a genius, thank you very much. And she was kind of cute when she wasn't doing whatever that thing was with her eyes that made her look like she was possessed, and dancing with her didn't exactly suck, and...
Quentin took another hit off his spliff. It seemed like the best thing to do.
Effy couldn't help but smirk. Thought so.
Whatever. Quentin waved that aside. Becky's a friend. Not like I've got those crawling out of the woodwork or anything.
"Even amongst the strange there's normality," Effy commented, lips turning downwards in a slight frown.
Quentin stared at Effy for a few moments, eyebrow arched, then finally shook his head. "No. I still have no idea what that meant," he admitted.
Effy shook her head. He wasn't understanding. No point in explaining it then.
"Whatever." Quentin reclosed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. What's your story, anyway? What do you care about Becky? He'd never gotten the impression that Effy cared about much of anyone but herself.
"Caring...what is it good for? Absolutely nothing," Effy commented off hand, eyes focused on the roof. She knew what Tony would say, if he could hear her. But Tony fucked off, so that was that. "Becky's my roommate."
"Hey, you seem pretty sure I should be caring about something," Quentin observed, a smirk teasing at his lips. Plenty of people around here not liking their roommates. You've heard them.
Effy shrugged. "She's cute, she's harmless, let's me do what I want with no comment, and other than her obsession with you and gay incest has less annoying thoughts than most."
Quentin winced. "I still haven't figured out the appeal of that pairing," he admitted. Or why she was obsessed with him, for that matter - no, that made sense. She should be obsessed with him. Other people should be obsessed with him too. It was weirder that they weren't than that she was.
Except yeaaaah. For the most part, it didn't seem to work that way.
"Cheer up buttercup; you're still number one in your own mind."
"Now who's cheating?"
"Still you, but I'll admit to some usage on my part," Effy teased with a smirk emerging at the end.
Quentin smirked back and nodded his head in a silent salute. "You're okay, Eff."
"You're...not as much of a twat as I thought."
"I'll take it," Quentin decided after a moment's consideration. He smirked. "So, that offer you weren't actually making earlier...?"
Keep dreaming lover boy. Effy replied back, her smirk growing even more prominent as she shook her head. Ah young hope. It wasn't like he'd know what to do with her even if he had her.
This was fucking bonkers. Literally fucking bonkers.
Songs--everywhere.
There literally were not enough words to express her displeasure. But now was not the time to not try. She had heard through the rumor mill, also known as her classmates thoughts, that Quentin was to blame.
Well, Effy couldn't say she was overly surprised.
Now to find the fucker and thoroughly chew him out. She hesitated outside the infirmary, not really keen on entering. Instead, she thought, You there wanker?
Quentin groaned and pulled the pillow over his head, which needless to say, did absolutely nothing to quiet Effy's voice in his head. Hey Eff. Kind of having a migraine, here. Call back later. Or not. Actually, his head was feeling mostly better, thanks to Betsy knocking him out, but there was no way he was leaving the infirmary until everyone stopped singing.
No fucker, you've got songs in my head. All. Fucking. Day.
I'm not admitting to that. Except that honestly, his shields were a mess, so she likely already knew anyway. Whatever. It wasn't like he hadn't had songs in his head whenever he was conscious. Did you catch what I did to Rankin? He offered up the memory for her amusement.
Amusing, Effy remarked dryly, leaning against the wall with a slight frown. You wrecked havoc on my brain all day. No shields, mo' songs, mo' problems, so they say.
That part was a total accident, Quentin whined. C'mon Eff, it was an experiment gone wrong. Gimme a break here. You've gotta admit, some of it was hilarious.
Sure, hilarious. Let's call it that. Why were you experimenting with songs?
Quentin rolled his eyes. Virtual mental reality, actually. The songs weren't part of the original plan. Why don't you just come in and talk? My brain hurts.
Effy rolled her eyes but pushed off the wall and walked in. "No nurse?"
"Eh, in and out." Quentin shrugged, winced a little, and pushed himself up so he was sitting. "Betsy suggested I stay here until everyone who wants to kill me gets distracted by something bright and shiny."
"That may be a while. Years, even," Effy responded, choosing a new wall to lean against.
"Please. Most of these morons have the attention span of a gnat." Quentin grimaced. "Besides, I don't get that long. Apparently, Lensherr figures the perfect punishment is to force me to get them to rise above their current level of stupidity."
"Oh? How so?" Effy asked. Yes, most of their classmates were rather...unfortunate. However, Quentin was a pompous arse.
"Tutoring." Quentin shuddered. "They'll get the schedule to me by next week. I figure they're thinking that me committing suicide will make for less paperwork than someone killing me outright."
"Those poor souls you're being inflicted upon," Effy told him with a sigh.
"Hey, there's inflicting upon me, too. Some sympathy here, huh?" He arched his eyebrows and smirked, just a little. "Besides, you know you're just annoyed you didn't think of it all first."
"Think of forcing an unwillingly subject to sing as a form of revenge?" Effy asked, quirking her brow again. Jesus this boy was full of himself. Deciding to fuck with him a bit, she tilted her head and squinted slightly, moving forward, "I prefer my participants to be more...voluntary."
Please. Quentin smirked a bit more and quirked his own eyebrows higher (yeah, okay, maybe his eyes were widening a little, he was a sixteen year old guy; sue him). My shields are crap at the moment, he pointed out. Not buying it, Eff.
"Can't blame a girl for trying...especially if it puts a pin in an ego like yours," Effy retorted with a shrug.
"Yeah yeah, whatever." Quentin rolled his eyes and waved her off, feeling both amused and a little disappointed. Okay, granted, it was Effy, and there was no way she'd be interested in doing anything with him except maybe...
Huh. Quentin gave her a calculating look. You got anything in your pharmacopia that can shut me down for a while?
Depends... Effy was curious about how far he was willing to go. Although Effy would never actually sleep with him, for fear of what Becky would think--non-stop--if she ever found out, she was more than willing to fuck him up. Wanting to block, or wanting to be completely out of it?
Completely out of it, how? He'd been drunk before. He had not so wonderful (if someone skimpy in places) memories of being drunk. He definitely hadn't enjoyed the following morning.
Again, depends, Effy repeated with a shrug. She offered up different memories of hers, ranging from the party incident with an unnamed drug in a syringe to E to spliff, and everything that Effy had tried inbetween.
Fuck. Quentin's eyebrows raised. He'd known Effy got into that stuff, but he hadn't even realized half of the things she was showing him even existed. The last one, he replied finally. He sat up. Just gotta figure out how to get out of here without anyone noticing.
"Well I don't see a nurse here..."
"I'm a little more worried about who's out there," Quentin admitted. A quick scan suggested no one (or at least, no one with a brain) was in the immediate vicinity, though, so he got to his feet. "Where to?"
"If Becky walks in on you in our room, we'll have an issue. I do need to go by there though and get the stuff," Effy responded with a shrug.
Quentin winced. Running into Becky with Effy would be bad. Running into Becky if she was still singing might be worse. "Boathouse?" he suggested.
Boathouse, Effy agreed, turning around to leave without another word.
Quentin grinned and headed out as well. Shields still down (and fuck, he was going to have to get a handle on that, but his head was still throbbing and he didn't really care enough to bother right now) he scanned the minds in the immediate vicinity, and was grateful to realize that hardly anyone had apparently put his name together with the day's events. He definitely owed Betsy one. Maybe Effy'd have an idea about what to do? She was in a remarkably helpful mood.
Or she was just glad to have someone to get high with. That seemed more likely.
In any case, he made it to the boathouse before she did, and let himself in, then plopped down on the nearest chair and closed his eyes.
Spliff and skins in hand, Effy meandered down to the boathouse. She could hear Quentin's thoughts from like a kilometer away.
It was rather unfortunate.
Yours aren't exactly a treat either, y'know, Quentin observed as he picked up on Effy's.
Glad to be of service, Effy responded dryly.
Oh yeah, you're practically radiating that "Help your neighbor" vibe. Quentin smirked. Besides, you started it.
"Do you want the drugs or not?"
"Hey, I'm kidding." Quentin rolled his eyes. "Lighten up, huh? And yes, I want the drugs."
Effy tossed him the baggie and then extended the skins. "Can you roll yourself, or will you be needing help?" She couldn't help her smirk or challenge in her words.
Quentin caught the bag awkwardly and narrowed his eyes. "Preeeetty sure I can figure it out," he observed. He took a quick peek at her memory (just for tips, obviously) and got started.
Helping herself to some as well, Effy quickly and easily rolled herself one. She pulled out a lighter from her bra and lit it before taking a long hit.
Much better.
Quentin smirked a little as Effy pulled out her lighter (no point hiding it from another telepath anyway), and held out his hand for it when finished. No pockets?
Does it look like this outfit has pockets? Effy asked in reply, hand gesturing to her barely there skirt and top.
Hey, trying not to stare, here, Quentin pointed out. His smirk grew bigger. Though I'm not sure there's enough fabric there for a pocket. Did you dress up just to come chew me out?
"Don't flatter yourself, tosser," Effy responded with an eyeroll. Maybe the weed would help Quentin be less of an arse?
"Well, you could flatter me instead. Just for a change of pace." Quentin smirked, plucked the lighter from her hand, and awkwardly used it to light up. He took a slow drag off it, emulating what he'd picked up from Effy - and promptly started choking.
At this point Effy's eyes could get stuck in an eyeroll. She gave him a pointed look. Just because monkey sees does not mean monkey can do. She took a long pull, quirked a brow, and then let a steady stream of smoke out in his direction.
Show off. Alright, it wasn't exactly inspired, but hey, it definitely fit. Besides, coughing fit aside, Quentin's head felt...well, weird wasn't a very precise adjective, but it worked well enough. And hey, choking. Inspired would have to wait. "Fine," he asked once he managed to breathe once again, "how do I do this without killing myself? Seeing as you're the expert?"
"Slow breath in, but deep. Then slowly let the smoke out," Effy suggested, trying to think back. After all, it had been quite a while since she had been a newb at smoking, well, anything.
"Right." Quentin tried it again, inhaling slowly, then exhaled just as deliberately, definitely feeling the effects this time. Not bad, he ventured, leaning back on his arm. "I can see the appeal." Yeah, all the crap was still there, and he was probably still going to die as soon as Rankin found him, but it didn't seem to matter all that much.
"Just the tip of the iceberg," Effy admitted easily, taking a longer drag in the nice silence the spliff seemed to be inspiring in Quentin. Perhaps she should give him drugs more often.
Quentin laughed. A genuine, amused laugh, containing none of his usual sarcasm or derision.
"Yeeah, but then you'd have to actually, y'know, talk to me." He waved his finger at her. "Can't have that. The hot girls never talk to the geeks unless they're setting them up."
"It's not the geek part I take issue with," Effy responded with an easy smirk. The weed was taking off the usual edge of talking to Quentin.
"So? What's your issue, then?" Quentin took another drag, managing (almost) not to cough, and closed his eyes. Huh. Quiet. Quiet didn't suck. He was having a really hard time figuring out what Effy said aloud and what she didn't, but whatever. She had to be pretty used to having that problem herself.
"The arrogant prick part."
"Hey, I'm not an arrogant prick!" Quentin protested, genuinely surprised. Arrogant - yeah, okay. He kind of rocked the arrogant thing. But a prick?
Is there a term you'd prefer? Effy asked lazily, allowing the spliff to relax her muscles. She closed her eyes--this was the most at peace she had been all day.
I can think of a few, yeah. Honestly, a prick? He wasn't a prick. Or, well, if he was, he rocked at it. Obviously. There were at least a few people he was on speaking terms with since his personality makeover. It definitely beat his old school.
"What would you choose then?" Effy asked, figuring it was at least interesting to see how he perceived himself.
Quentin shrugged and took another hit. What do you care? It's not like I don't know you don't like me, Eff. I'm not an idiot.
"Would never accuse you of that," Effy responded with a shrug and a drag. Of the many things Quentin was, idiot was not among them. "Do you want me to like you?"
Huh. Good question, actually. "It wouldn't suck," he admitted
Effy finally folded herself into a nearby chair. She tilted her head curiously, "How much?" She allowed her eyes to trail up and down his body.
Quentin rolled his eyes and grinned. "You don't mean it." Okay, fine, he was guessing - whatever this shit was, it was making it hard to focus in on her thoughts. But he figured it was a safe enough bet.
No cheating... "I wouldn't fuck a cheat," Effy continued but smirked all the same.
Quentin's eyebrows shot up and he smirked. "I'm not. But you wouldn't fuck me anyway. You're just fucking with me." Which - yeah, okay, that was pretty much why he liked her. Effy played the game.
"That's life isn't it? Always playing a game..." Effy often got existential when high, mostly because she felt like she was finally hearing her own thoughts.
Unless they weren't actually hers. She couldn't really tell anymore.
"Pretty much," Quentin allowed. He took another hit. "I just want to be the one running it for a change." He smirked. "The Overlord."
"Best of luck with the 'loyal minions' part," Effy chuckled, smirking back and lazily taking another hit.
"Hey, it's a work in progress," Quentin protested. "Besides, I've got Becky." He smirked. "Want to be a minion? Or co-Overlord? I could be talked into that." He relaxed in his chair and crossed his ankles.
"Becky's idolation of you is something I'll never grasp," Effy told him, shaking her head and deciding not to answer the other part of his question. Although co-Overlord could be a rewarding title.
"Yeeaaaah, not sure I grasp that either, to be honest." Quentin took a hit and closed his eyes. Not that it wasn't cool to have someone actually appreciate him for once, but yeah. Becky took it to some pretty extreme levels. "Not that I'm about to talk her out of it, you understand."
"I understand the appeal of the situation for you...but doesn't it feel a bit like taking candy from a baby?"
Quentin snorted and gave Effy an incredulous look. "Becky had me on the floor serenading her before I was at the school for an hour. Preeetty sure she can take care of herself."
"Harmless," Effy pointed out to him with a quirked eyebrow. She took another drag and further relaxed into her chair.
"Hey, it's not like I'm going to do anything to hurt her," Quentin protested, feeling...actually, a little hurt. Huh. "I like Becky alright."
"Wow...you actually care," Effy murmured, a little surprised.
Quentin blinked. "I do not," he protested. Did he?
Fuck. Okay, maybe he did. A little. Becky was alright, when she wasn't hanging all over him. Actually, she was pretty much alright even when she was, because he had to admit, the attention was pretty cool, and it was nice that someone finally recognized that he was a genius, thank you very much. And she was kind of cute when she wasn't doing whatever that thing was with her eyes that made her look like she was possessed, and dancing with her didn't exactly suck, and...
Quentin took another hit off his spliff. It seemed like the best thing to do.
Effy couldn't help but smirk. Thought so.
Whatever. Quentin waved that aside. Becky's a friend. Not like I've got those crawling out of the woodwork or anything.
"Even amongst the strange there's normality," Effy commented, lips turning downwards in a slight frown.
Quentin stared at Effy for a few moments, eyebrow arched, then finally shook his head. "No. I still have no idea what that meant," he admitted.
Effy shook her head. He wasn't understanding. No point in explaining it then.
"Whatever." Quentin reclosed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. What's your story, anyway? What do you care about Becky? He'd never gotten the impression that Effy cared about much of anyone but herself.
"Caring...what is it good for? Absolutely nothing," Effy commented off hand, eyes focused on the roof. She knew what Tony would say, if he could hear her. But Tony fucked off, so that was that. "Becky's my roommate."
"Hey, you seem pretty sure I should be caring about something," Quentin observed, a smirk teasing at his lips. Plenty of people around here not liking their roommates. You've heard them.
Effy shrugged. "She's cute, she's harmless, let's me do what I want with no comment, and other than her obsession with you and gay incest has less annoying thoughts than most."
Quentin winced. "I still haven't figured out the appeal of that pairing," he admitted. Or why she was obsessed with him, for that matter - no, that made sense. She should be obsessed with him. Other people should be obsessed with him too. It was weirder that they weren't than that she was.
Except yeaaaah. For the most part, it didn't seem to work that way.
"Cheer up buttercup; you're still number one in your own mind."
"Now who's cheating?"
"Still you, but I'll admit to some usage on my part," Effy teased with a smirk emerging at the end.
Quentin smirked back and nodded his head in a silent salute. "You're okay, Eff."
"You're...not as much of a twat as I thought."
"I'll take it," Quentin decided after a moment's consideration. He smirked. "So, that offer you weren't actually making earlier...?"
Keep dreaming lover boy. Effy replied back, her smirk growing even more prominent as she shook her head. Ah young hope. It wasn't like he'd know what to do with her even if he had her.
