[ as koby begins to tell his story, quentin squeezes his hands and simply hums in response, acknowledging each point made and encouraging him to continue. they may still be getting to know one another, but quentin can read between the lines of koby's story, and the things he hadn't known - the blood, the fear, the terror - that's all something he will hold onto, use later when koby needs bolstering, protecting.

but he listens to the end of the story, the way koby's able to catch his breath as he tells it, the way he steadies in his arms. he smiles a little, encouraging, even if the intensity still burns behind his eyes. ]

She didn't know the first thing about you.

[ he leans his forehead against koby's, letting their noses nudge and their breaths mingle on the air between them in the dark. one hand pulls away from the other's, moving to wrap around his waist again, palm splaying against his back. the other stays, fingers twining. ]

And did any of what you said - did that sound like a coward's tale, Koby? Someone who would be better off nothing but a smear on the deck? Hardly. Let her think what she wants, but she's wrong and even if she was here, she'd have no power over you now.

[ he smiles. ] A dream is just that - a dream. A bad one, a good one. And maybe she haunts you there, but she has no power. Only you do.