Why do you think I haven't spoken to him about it directly, Stephen? Do you think I'm ignoring it? Watching it play out for my own personal entertainment?
[ Takeshi's not the enemy. There is no enemy really, just a danger, and a lack of desire to be told how to navigate his own relationship with Quentin Smith. Calm down. ]
I meant that I fully anticipate a fight and that I'm not worried about it. Quentin lives in my house. He hones his craft in my dreams. When we're both home, he sleeps in my bed more nights than he doesn't. If I do talk to him, he'll either stay and percolate or he won't, but I don't think one difficult conversation's going to temper his drive altogether. So I'm not worried.
If he pulls too far away then you're the tortoise and I'm the hare, and I'll learn my lesson the hard way. And you'll still be there with your path ready to steer him in whatever time you determine to be right.
[ He has faith in that. He's just not willing to accept that it should dictate how he does or does not choose to engage Quentin himself. ]
Maybe you should've negotiated that before giving me the intel. [ He says, amused. Takeshi was never going to avoid an update even if he'd wanted to. ] 'Please keep me updated, Stephen' would also have worked fine.
[ Here Takeshi's treated to a brief and intimate glimpse of the stretch of his own craned neck, closely observed and artfully framed. It's too clear to be memory, too true to be anything but. Bathed in warm candlelight, his Adam's apple bobs as a scarred thumb trails its steady path along the line of his throat.
Telepathy has its perks. ]
Catch you later. Let me know if you need my help preparing for tomorrow. Big day.
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[ Sometimes you have to have a bad time to eventually have a better one. He's not anticipating this will be any different. ]
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[ No. Obviously not. But look: Stephen can talk in stupid point-making nonsense too. ]
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Because if you're excluding that I might be following my own path of non-immediate success, they're the next two obvious options.
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I meant that I fully anticipate a fight and that I'm not worried about it. Quentin lives in my house. He hones his craft in my dreams. When we're both home, he sleeps in my bed more nights than he doesn't. If I do talk to him, he'll either stay and percolate or he won't, but I don't think one difficult conversation's going to temper his drive altogether. So I'm not worried.
If he pulls too far away then you're the tortoise and I'm the hare, and I'll learn my lesson the hard way. And you'll still be there with your path ready to steer him in whatever time you determine to be right.
[ He has faith in that. He's just not willing to accept that it should dictate how he does or does not choose to engage Quentin himself. ]
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Telepathy has its perks. ]
Catch you later. Let me know if you need my help preparing for tomorrow. Big day.
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Sure. I'll let you know.