Q sat in silence for a long while, Lorie's words reverberating inside his head. He inhaled deeply and let it out. "Ahh." And then he buried his forehead against Lorie's shoulder and held it there, romantic world in the distant background, providing ill-fitting music for a scene much too heavy. "I want to try and find the 'wolf that bit me," he mumbled softly. "But if we can't, I don't have a choice. Thank you, Lorie--you're. The best."
Lorie, as usual, as still for only a moment.
In an instant, however, he was moving again—rolling out of his bed to fetch his phone from the chair he’d tossed it on, flopping back onto the bed with nary a care, suddenly. He had something he could do. Something To Do(TM). He would—do something, now, to help Q.
Yvan’s number was already up as he opened his messages, firing off a quick request—Q needs Biter. Find original?—quickly answered by a sharp “wtf” from Yvan with a dagger emoji. Sighing faintly, Lorie elaborated as much as he felt like sharing via text. Use werewolf pack network. Find who turned Q, if possible, please. He received nothing in response, secretly thankful for that—the sooner Yvan realized Lorie hadn’t answered any of his father’s texts, the more dead Lorie would be.
He settled completely against Q once more, voice small and softer than the fall of night.
“…Welcome.” Then, even more remote and quiet; resting against Q’s ear:
“Love you, Q-pie. You always gotta choice.”