@buckwilding asked: She's got a protective arm around a staggering Quentin. "Ease on up, Hon. I think yer lettin' the alcohol get to yer head a little."
Quentin tries not to press too much of his weight on her--even though that’s unnecessary because he knows that Kate is stronger than she looks and he knows that he’s lighter than he ought to healthily be--but its the decorum he can muster up in his inebriated state. If he were sober, he’d be embarrassed at how easily he went down after only a glass or two. But he wasn’t sober and so he wasn’t embarrassed. And Kate was warm and firm and she had the specific kind of confidence he could never find in himself, and so, he leans against her.
“I’m--I’m fine,” he teeters both verbally and physically, accidentally tumbling some of the weight against Kate, making them both stagger. He slurs a laugh, “Sorry...okay, maybe that last drink was pushing it.” It had only been his third drink.
As they straighten themselves up, he leans his cheek against the top of her head. Stray ringlets tickle his nose, so he lifts a pale hand to shakily brush down the flyaways. Even with all the dirt and dried blood, there was an undeniable brilliance to her locks, and the thought of tucking them behind her ears or curling them around his fingers came by often. He follows that desire, trying to gently untangle her hair, soothed by her warmth and the rhythm of the soft, mindless combing. He was tired, and he realized dully that he tended to get this way once drunk. Fully inhibited, he slips into sleep far faster and quieter than when sober. Not even death came as willingly to him as sleep came to him now. But he tried to stay awake, to prevent the collapse of all his weight against Kate.
“I like your hair,” he mumbles against her crown, “I just always liked long hair. yours is...really nice.” He wished he could see it when not matted by grime and violence. “You should go to the lake and try to wash it, I could help,” it was soft, helpful and hopeful, so much for the idea of her own contentedness as well as his appreciation for her and everything she did for them all. His voice trips over himself, but it’s all because of the alcohol and none of his usual fluster. “I just--I would like to help you. Like...you help me, you know?”