@im-possiblelimits || Nathan
One of the oddest side effects of living through the run in with the seam and the mirror verse that Quentin hadn’t expected (you know... aside from living to make it out of the mirror verse) was the extra nervous energy he had coursing through his veins. His arm was constantly aching, and his mind felt like it had shattered. He had constant brain zaps, fatigue, and vague dizziness like when he had come off of his depression meds too suddenly. But, it was the fidgeting that was driving him crazy. He had always been high-strung, but this was at a new level. His hands shook constantly, and every little thing made him feel like he was about to jump out of his skin.
He had been avoiding talking to anyone about it, and Julia (and he suspected El though he couldn’t be sure) had convinced their other friends that Q needed a little space before they smothered him with support. They hadn’t talked to him about anything any more personal than the weather and books in weeks, all of them determined to let him get his feet under him before breaching his quiet solitude. But honestly? It felt like they were walking on egg shells around him. Like he was made of cracked porcelain and bound to shatter at any moment. In earlier years it was times like this that he found himself a bed at a state hospital for a little while... now, he was actively avoiding it. It wasn’t like he could talk to a doctor about a near death experience in a mirror world, or memories from a life he had never lived, about his best friend and sort of ex being possessed by a body swapping monster, or his ex-possibly not ex- possibly yes-ex girlfriend becoming the head of an organization so corrupt it had nearly killed him and had been the reason he wound up in the previously mentioned mirror verse to begin with... without an non-elective stay and no chance at a bill of release. No... this had to be handled alone...
Which is how Q found himself pacing by a little dog park down the street from Kady’s apartment, chain smoking. He liked to watch the dogs run, and physical movement helped... a little... he leaned against the fence for just a moment to catch his breath and laughed at a Rottweiler whose stumpy little tail wagged ferociously as he chased after every ball thrown. So much so that Q couldn’t even tell who his owner was. He stubbed out his cigarette as the dog shook his most recent acquisition and it slipped out of his mouth flinging it over the fence in his direction. Quentin shuffled over to pick it up and met a kid at the fence, he had to be around Q’s own age, but he just seemed... young somehow.
“Is he yours?” Q asked passing the toy over the fence with what he hoped was a smile but felt more along the lines of a grimace.