[ Tim nods solemnly, wondering to himself a little more than is appropriate, whether Quentin is speaking from his own experience and just being coy about it. He feels, like all lovers lost so deeply in the sauce that they’ll never swim out, that this is too profound and painful to possibly be universal. People wouldn’t be able to function. The economy would grind to a halt. In this moment, with Hawk laying injured, the heartache feels catastrophic. If everyone felt like this, it would be entirely up to kind souls like Quentin and their help, to avoid complete societal collapse. There can’t possibly be enough people like him, seemingly unphased by anything. ]

I didn’t mean I don’t want to. [ With a tiny smile. It doesn’t come naturally; he must force it with all the strength he can muster, but putting forth that effort is proof that he’s being honest. ] Just that I feel very...awkward, about it. Forgive me.

[ He busies himself looking down at his hands as he peels a boiled egg. Awkward indeed. Without looking back, ]

You didn’t make me feel that way.

[ Neither did Hawk, but that should be obvious enough, the way he’s leashed himself to his bedside. It’s far beyond what he would call friendship, either way. ]