[ The feeling is sharp, sour. Painful. But he’s prepared for that to be the end.
And then it’s very much not.
It’s clear from how pale he gets when Quentin grabs his arm, how much the color drains from him as he’s questioned once they’re in the back room.
He can’t look him in the eyes. But he doesn’t wiggle away. This is what he earned, and he’s going to force himself to stay every excruciating second. ]
You’re still trying to find excuses for me. There aren’t any.
no subject
And then it’s very much not.
It’s clear from how pale he gets when Quentin grabs his arm, how much the color drains from him as he’s questioned once they’re in the back room.
He can’t look him in the eyes. But he doesn’t wiggle away. This is what he earned, and he’s going to force himself to stay every excruciating second. ]
You’re still trying to find excuses for me. There aren’t any.