rematch | helen & quinn
It was always a long fucking night. Ever since the attacks, Quinn had taken on more responsibility than he'd ever thought he would accept. The prefect thing… it was just a way to get out after curfew and find the Puri--he never thought he'd actually be of help to anyone. What's more was that he always came back to dungeons tired and frustrated. Tired, frustrated, bored, useless, god did his feet hurt, why are you still up, Bennet? Helen was there every night since that night. Quinn had brushed it aside, happy to just forget it ever happened. But the night after, she had planted herself on the same couch, reading the same book, most likely to gloat her small victory. Quinn walked past to the dormitories without a word. Not in the mood to deal with that right now. But the second night, Helen in her same place, there doing her homework. The third night, she still there. Fourth night, there again. Fifth night, he sighed, there.
Quinn had walked through the portrait hole, and he could already tell Helen was in the room. The fireplace was burning intensely, as if someone had recently fed it, and as he examined the room he saw the back of her head. Where it had always been. It was like he was operating on some sort of primal, territorial instinct because his exhausted body had told him to walk over to her. “Hey,” Quinn said firmly. He leaned against the side of the couch. ”You going to bed any time soon?”