Quintavius Quirinius Quire

“Is that a good thing?” She stopped in her tracks, turned around, and looked at him with her head to the side. It gave the same vibe as a confused puppy. “And…what do you mean ‘looking so hot’? I am not familiar with certain social norms…Peter often called Gamora hot. Is that what you mean?”

Mantis, bless her heart, was completely confounded by the boy: his shirt was a phrase she’d never heard, his comments were unrecognizable. Then again, she was still new to many concepts.

She was just so adorable. Sure, her powers unnerved him, the unease reverberated through his spine, but really though, she was cute and naïve and clueless as fuck. Clearly, this woman had lived under a rock her whole life. Not that that bothered him; between Isaac and (like) everyone, Quentin felt like a teacher these days. It was probably wasn't detrimental for his general rep. Those who approved would see his goodwill and who didn't would think he was a corrupting influence: it was a win-win. "Well, boring people get forgotten and die unknown, so draw your own conclusions on whether that's a good thing!"

“Oh, none taken! And either suggestion woulda been evil enough. But, even better…”

She smirked proudly, stiffening her shoulders as if to drive it all home. “He hands me his phone. I look him dead in the eye, and I fry the thing. Handed it back. Patted his shoulder and walked away.”

Jubilee laughed loudly. “Holy shit! Ya shoulda seen it? He was so stunned, he didn’t even say anything!”

"Jubilee, you wicked," he clapped his hands together. "The eye contact is what clinches it. Look a dude in the eye as you destroy him!" He punched through the air, exhaling through his lips, like a kid watching a game.

"What type of phone was it? Please tell me it was something expensive. But he wasn't classy enough for Galaxy or iPhone. Maybe the hottest newest generation of Microsoft phones. If they even make those."

“Oh! You’re that guy!” His tone was equal parts awed, curious, and alarmed. “Heard of you, but never really…had a face to put with it, I guess? Y-you were a touchy subject when I was with the X-Men.”

“And-and can we just talk normally? You’re creeping me out with the whole mind thing. It’s some kinda Carrie shit…no offense, but-”

As low-key hilarious as it was to freak the dude out; it simply wasn't productive, for revolutionary purposes or anything other than mindless amusement. That was doubly wasted on a guy that looked so clueless. It was as if Ashton hadn't noticed yet that he belonged or some shit… Quentin knew that feeling… so he decided to cut him some slack. "Fine. Talking. That's insensitive, though, what if I was mute?" He sighed: long, drawn-out, and pointedly; as if his talking muscles hadn't been used in ages, cracking his jaw purposely like it was out of practice; overall making a big deal of the fake 'effort' he was making. He was trying to be generally cool to the guy, though; Quentin broke into a surprisingly genuine smile. "Awwh, thank you! Carrie is a personal role model of mine. Say what you want about coming-of-age clichés, but Steven King is fabulous. I'm going to die like her, I think. Still got fine details to sort."

She ignored the color that showed in Quentin’s face even if it was funny. She thought maybe it was okay to just let things slide from time to time, specially when Idie was the reason he was probably blushing that way. Idie was special, she knew it since she met her, but how much of what she had met could be true? She had an influence over all of them and they all certainly looked at her in a different light, she had saved them in some way… so how much was actually how they really were? How would they be if she hadn’t been who she was in their lives? She smiled when he talked again, she was sure what he was saying wasn’t the truth “You’re sure?” She teased. He would probably deny he payed attention to the religious thoughts that ran through Kurt and Idie’s mind, but something told her he didn’t learn it just because he was a bored genius. She turned to look at him and half smiled, he probably knew how she felt about the way they left her behind. She was hurt, but they didn’t need to take care of her… she knew they trusted her enough to just leave without a problem, but they had forgotten about her mot knowing a thing. She was raised in the apocalypse, not it this society. She pulled away from all of them thinking the world had finally decided she wasn’t an interesting topic… she was alone when she found out she was still the center of attention for many bad things and when she called for help no one would come, she was on her own.“of course he didn’t get you, but who really gets another person?” She was surrounded by complex people that she wouldn’t understand, but they wouldn’t understand her either. He was defensive again, so he really was depressed “if you aren’t it’s a miracle” mutants were depressed, probably even all the people in Haven were with all they had suffered. So if he really wasn’t it would be a nice surprise “why don’t you see it like this? Now you know what could happen in one of many futures… do things differently if you don’t want it to happen again” she knew futures changed, she was sure of it. So she said something positive but also completely true, she wasn’t giving him false hopes, she was actually telling that if he hated what he had seen so much he could change it. “You were too young Quentin, of course someone wanted you to have some sort of redemption. You are powerful, you are a threat but you’re here, not after prison just after school which is boring but… well it’s far less bad than prison”

She smiled and looked at him “well, I would like to see you trying to be a good leader” she would never underestimate a leader, having all those people’s sakes in your hands couldn’t be easy. People’s hope was a heavy weight to carry on your shoulders, she knew it better than anyone. He was smart and powerful, that might help and even if his age didn’t matter too much to her, it would matter to others, specially with the history he had. Also it was a difficult task and he wasn’t as stable as many others “you will fight all of us? I bet you care about at least one person… You’re willing to fight them too?” It was a serious question, but she lightened it with the small curious smile on her face. She knew he wanted the world on the palm of his hand but he wasn’t insensitive, he actually cared about some people and that might cause his goals some problems unless he was willing to hurt all the people he loved and risk becoming a monster. She was such an attention seeker, but maybe there was something else behind it, maybe she would find out someday “You’re a weird guy” she put her arm around his shoulder and started walking slightly quicker towards the kitchen. After all she was really hungry.

Idie was of course his true main source of Biblical knowledge. After all Kurt's main use was providing bamfs, and she was the first time he'd gave it any real shot. He'd felt guilty over her burial of the book she had loved so much — he'd tried to undo it, tried to help her find her faith again so that maybe she could find herself, but by the time she'd finally got over him not saving Broo, she'd been spiraling too deep and too far. Then again, so was Quentin when they'd ruled the Hellfire Club. All for nothing. When he yearned and pined after her now, missing her, it was easy to forget what an extended shit show had lead to whatever idealized romance he missed in the first place. Of course, he knew from Hope's wry smile that she got it, and silently he was really grateful to her for not pressing him to admit it aloud. 'Sides, in their fucked up world, being feared and hated for who you were, who wouldn't be tempted to draw some comfort from a stable set of beliefs? It was hard to figure out everything all the time. "I'm always sure. I wouldn't be so influential if I went around not being sure about shit," he adopted a mock-preachy tone. He gave an exaggerated shrug. "Bleh, mutants are supposed to get each other!" Even as the words left his mouth, he knew it would ring especially inaccurate for her. Mutantkind was supposed to be united by their common struggle, but they were dumb, so instead, Hope had been worse than even straight out rejected — she'd been neglected, abandoned, the minute they were finished with her. Xavier's dream was stupid. Even Scott knew it, so why did so many still follow it? And so was Magneto's 'dream,' in many ways. Mutants needed to do better at looking out for each other before obsessing over what to do about sapiens. 'Cause you know that you got a whole world to change, but understand who you gotta change first. "I'm a pretty miraculous guy," he winked. But she was right. If he'd been feeling generally better, Haven would certainly have had a full scale revolution by now. It was just… so… much work? And doing work required purpose and that lead to a whole new set of problems. Ugh. "Isn't that how I am looking at it? My evil future self existed as a direct consequence of following the Wolverine Guide to being a Good Little X-Man! My future self lost what makes me me and destroyed everything I loved. So, if I don't get tempted into Logan's adorable redemption story, it can't really come true, you know?" He snorted at her last comment. "Well, at least prison wouldn't have Wolverine in it." Of course he wasn't totally serious. The feds who'd wanted him in jail forever had put a huge uncomfortable anti-telepathy helmet on him. It had felt extremely unnecessary.

“Never underestimate the past when it comes to terrible ideas for medicine.  At least cocaine dulls your awareness of pain.  Bloodletting, trepanation, strapping a chicken to your plague sores – at least coke and vibrators put people in a good mood.”  She stepped away so that she could retrieve antibiotics.

“You know, you’re right.  Only babies ask for urgent medical care.  My bad,” she replied as she returned to the room.  “I don’t care what you said about my arm, Quentin.  My arm is a work of fucking art, I don’t need anyone to confirm or refute that.”  She needed to estimate his weight, she measured out a syringe of penicillin.  “I just want you to understand that you’re in serious danger right now.  Once I have you more stable, we’re going for an x-ray, because I need to see if there are bone fragments in your wound.  Bone fragments will mean pockets of infection that will need to be cleared up.”

A live chicken? Holy shit. He imagined a squawking bird tied to his arm, and automatically shuddered. Poor thing. "Eh, point. Last time I did coke, I started a revolution over the actual dumbest thing… wait, did you say vibrators?" he realized, glancing at her, brow furrowed, doing his best to ignore the discomfort that throbbed in his arm. "Can you still do that? Do you have a medical vibrator in your PC gaming style med kit? Can I have one?" This was a bewildering revelation that he was pretty sure he had never heard before. And it was very, very, cool.

He snorted, a bubble of saliva appearing and popping between his lips that he didn't really notice. Obviously, she hadn't understood what he was getting at. He was important. People underestimated how true this was, but he had to be important to some people, or why would Fox News hate him? And there were real babies who looked up to him! Some people got their mutations at birth, didn't she know that? But for once in his life, he was too tired to argue. He was wiped, and he needed to save up energy for his stunning escape. Instead, his voice came out a pathetic mournful whine. "It's my life. I never asked you kidnap me and hold me against my will to save it. Why are you so mad?" He pouted, before the confusion got to him. "Damn, Becky, give me your confidence. Then I'm not sorry… I just wanted you to know I didn't… nothing? Does this mean you're not gonna make me a matching one?"

“There aren’t a lot of things less convincing than someone insisting that they’re very smart.  You have to show that sort of thing,” she pointed out blandly.  Most smart people didn’t harp on about how smart they were, they tended to be more secure in their talents.  Quentin reeked of insecurity much of the time.

“I’d say that you should ask the last people who tried to control my mind how that worked out for them, but they all died screaming.”  Her warning came with the same tone of flippancy.  She avoided killing where she could, but anyone who tried to get into her head could look forward to guts full of adamantium.  

She raised a very Logan eyebrow at him, “You’re not holding a grudge against him over the time you assaulted his mind?  How kind of you.”

He sighed. "Well, the humans are intimidated, so your opinion doesn’t really matter." Hhey, he was totally smarter than her, and what else mattered in the end? He wasn't digging about her mind enough for an actual evaluation, but it was guaranteed. Laura was the clone of Wolverine, who was so dumb he could run around feral even when Quentin was playing with the thing that passed for his conscious mind. Besides, Xavier had tested Quentin to be at genius levels back in the day.

"You mean your whole trigger scent thing? Come on, that's biochemistry. I'm really offended that you'd compare some whacky odor to my incredibly precise and articulate and deliberate and intricate telepathy!" His voice took on a whiny tone. He hated that, when people compared drugs or brainwashing to his powers — he controlled people, not just altered their state or whatever. He was so much better than that.

“Heroin and cocaine were both used clinically until we learned to isolate less unpredictable opioids,” Bek replied, seeming unphased by his ranting.  “Clench your hand into a fist,” she said, indicating the hand on the end of his broken arm.  She knew he wouldn’t be able to, and it was simpler to say that than tell him again that he had an infected, broken arm.

She placed the needle, starting the flow of saline into Quentin’s blood.  “I think a shared level of emotional maturity is necessary to a relationship, and you hid a compound fracture for at least a week after infection started to set in.  We might have some common ground after all this, of course – you might just lose your arm too.”  She gave the saline bag a few flicks to be sure it was releasing properly.

“Really? Giving injured people coke sounds like a reeeally dumb idea.” He blinked at her medical gibberish. Okay, not gibberish, he loved to listen to her spout facts. It was a moment late when he realized the request. Of course, she needed a bulging vein or some shit. He pasted on a smile that probably looked more like a grimace, as he clasped the mattress beneath himself with the unbroken arm. Exhaling with a steadily controlled breath, he then turned his palm upwards, a brief moment before squeezing into a fist. His nails dug into his hand; as if that was noticeable against the pain shooting in waves from the opposite side of his body like pointy daggers up along that arm. Gritting his teeth, he smiled more truly, as somehow in making a fist with his good hand he had accomplished something miraculous and impressive.

She listened, intently. Amy knew he was being honest, even if a little brutally so, but she appreciated that. He didn’t hide things from her after their shared experience with one another.

“Not much. I was in 4-H and FFA. I wasn’t big into protesting the whole mutant rights thing, like I should have been, but we didn’t have mutants, at least none that stood out from the crowd. It still wasn’t right, but you know. Out of sight, out of mind.”

Amy swung her legs over too, picking up a piece of straw and carefully tearing it in half from the top of the stem down.

“It doesn’t make the full humans right. And it definitely didn’t make family gatherings any more uncomfortable when close family members would make mutie jokes. You knew it was wrong, but… you didn’t say anything to keep the peace.”

Her hand clenched around the edge of the loft. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have. If I was stronger then, I could have said something. Maybe changed their viewpoint. But- no. I stayed too quiet. To agreeable.”

He was… impressed, though that might not be the word he'd use — pleasantly amazed, perhaps; and more than a little aroused. On one hand, he'd never seen such 'sapien guilt' like this in his life. Or to put it less condescending, he'd never before witnessed a human to feel such genuinely angst on the topic mutant rights. Of course there were always plenty of liberals who played like they were down, to fit into their idea of what made them feel like a good philanthropic person, but that wasn't Amy. He'd seen inside her mind. Her genuine caring right now about mutant people without any political stance or anything… it was something he had never seen before. God, it made him so hot for her right now.

He shrugged, running his fingers through his fair, maybe acting blasé, but he was still trying to figure out how to respond. "Well, I'm not exactly a hugely vocal advocate for BLM or anything. If you're not part of a minority group, if you're not fighting the fight and facing the struggle every day, you're not gonna be driven to fight for a cause that doesn't even have the decency to set up protests or marches in your area," he admitted. He was all for violent protests and intersectionality issues, but it was true. And Amy was a good person. The realness she was feeling right now proved it. Yes, he would have preferred her to make strong confrontational statements all along the way. But he knew who she was, and why, and that mattered more.

Quentin was inherently against all prejudice. Well, homo superior were in fact superior — but he was against prejudice against all oppressed groups. He couldn't blame her though for not speaking up at family gatherings. She hadn't been through quite what he had, and if years ago he'd had a chance to feel like a family with his people, he might have held onto it in the past. And Amy'd had a girlfriend; she was already dealing with something they'd never approve of. If anything, it was nice she didn't throw mutants under the bus.

She smiled slightly as she learned how he knew things from the bible “well, that’s a good memory you have, but why did you pay so much attention to it?” A small flash about Kurt appeared in her mind but she pushed it back as fast as she could so he wouldn’t notice “maybe Idie also helped a bit” she knew she probably did, but why push it when you’re having a good time? . She shook her head as he complained, a thing he did often… maybe she should get used to it “well, that’s my life, but you will probably be followed around always, so good luck. You will see the X-Men until you die” she joked and looked to the front with a small smile. Maybe she was lucky they didn’t babysit her, after all she really was a bit more comfortable alone, but it wasn’t just that. She felt used and that was something that would never go away, but she knew probably it was a normal thing the X-Men did. “Well, I think he had the wrong ideas about you, that’s for sure” she said with honesty, after all, he was too much of a rebel to be a good part of a team and he had this attitude that would never allow him to be what Logan expected. She stayed quiet for a moment as he talked, she didn’t know how to answer to what he was saying. X-Men were actually good at dying and every time there was at least one dead among all the ones that had alreae died once, he was right in all he was saying… and there was no way to reply, so she didn’t until the next part came along “You’re doing good, but umm I think the depression you have mow didn’t come from him” she looked into his eyes “he broke you once, but you’re still broken and it’s not all his fault” She looked at him looking away and smiled “I know I do” she said with a fake pride. She knew she wasn’t the best at showing she cared, well, she wasn’t even good at caring, but she was doing an effort with him. He was expressive, and she wasn’t, but she was really trying.

She moved away and glared at him, her look clearly saying “Don’t you dare”, but the small smile on her face made it seem more like a playful threat. He was nice to be around, but in a different way than most people, he was a bit rude, loud and definitely headache worthy, but he had a spark and a mind worth the attention she was giving to him “you really want to do that? Mess with the power when we’re two teens with almost no position and no experience to take care of Haven” she sighed, he sure wasn’t the most liked person among the mutants and she could see why “You’re going against all of Haven alone? I mean, you can be powerful but… don’t underestimate them” even she would fight against him if he started to mess things up, and if Haven was smart about it, there would be no way for it to end nicely for Quentin. “It might love you, and I think yeah, you’re probably more famous, but don’t say you don’t love all the attention you get. Good or bad you get attention and you probably enjoy it” what she was saying was opposite to what she tought about the spotlight, but it seemed he was really different in that sense. Hope hated the spotlight, the attention and the pressure that came with it, yet she knew some people really seemed to enjoy it. “The probably do”

He blushed a vibrant scarlet — not at her praise so much as at her mention of Idie. Of course he'd learned a lot of his Biblical acumen from Idie — actually a good deal more than he had from Kurt — and he'd actually liked a lot of it. There had been nice verses, that made him feel less abandoned. Other parts had irritated him, the parts that Idie thought was proof that they were monsters. Well, Quentin disagreed with a lot of common interpretations, he thought ninety-eight percent sure Jesus was probably a mutant. It was a moot point. Organized religion like all such hierarchical institutions were against his beliefs. He wasn't going to drone about it. "I didn't pay attention, I was just bored." He laughed along with her at her next comment, but he felt an overpowering pang of sympathy. He'd have those dumb rotten X-Men following him around till he died — and he was such a bad kid, by their standards, even by most standards. Hope on the other hand was so disciplined and moral and she was ignored the moment they no longer needed her, while Quentin who some considered a threat, they thought needed to be babysat. It wasn't fair. He knew it wasn't a good feeling for her. How could it be? What kind of guardians of the young mutant generation could rationalize leaving their actual savior to figure out this world on her own? "They didn't get me, right? Well Logan can stick every last damn one of those ideas— I'm not depressed! That was alliterative poetics!" he burst out in automatic protest. He was a contrary person. And though very emotional, he did not have a history of straight out admitting flaws or weaknesses in himself. "But yeah, actually, Logan broke me. If he hadn't dragged my ass in chains to his school, I never would have been involved in their time-traveling X-shit and looked into the mind of my future self. Yeah, that happened. I don't recommend it." He knew he wasn't the expert on time travel here. He hadn't actually even done it. But he didn't know that she'd ever met her future self, so maybe he had one on her. He sighed. "Captain America wanted to put me in federal mutant prison. Scott wanted to keep me in a prison on Utopia. Logan wanted to try and rehabilitate me at a school. Turns out Logan wanted it most. People forgot about whatever shit I'd done fairly quick, but Logan kept on doing his thing."

“I’ve had it rough, but I haven’t had it supervillian rough, not yet anyway.” Chuck joked at Quentin and she thought about revealing the truth, about what she had done with her friend out on their excursion.

Chuck ran a hand through her hair, looking at him, “are you making this up to try and get me to do something? There’s no way anyone can really like me like that.” While Chuck was a strong girl, confidence in the boy department was lacking. She wanted to make friends but she was worried Quentin was just leading her on.

Quentin had been bullied as a kid. It had worn away his self esteem before ever reaching puberty, and it certainly had shit to do with the sometime narcissistic isolationist that he'd grown up into. Even (to his shame) Kid Omega the Terroristic Revolutionary had something to thank his bullies. He hated those kids to this day. It was the hierarchical nature of the human species. They hated and feared what was different; and even before his mutation, he'd been different. That was probably why his stomach turned summersaults now when he heard her question, her wariness, her psychic aura. That's why heart felt so weighted and awful as she guessed at his plan. This was kinda uncool — given her good heart combined with her fear to be trusting. Aw shit. The insecurity inside Chuck's brain was all too painfully familiar. The whole bully cycle was real. It was how he'd learned to 'hack' it when he'd become telepathic, picking on their most painful traumas and taunting them about it. Because they'd deserved it. He couldn't be a part of that. This couldn't be what that was. He was greater than bullying. He was better than that. That wasn't what he was doing. But he was in tune with her pain, the isolation, the paranoia, the trauma, and it made him feel like he was being cruel. He really did hope to see them together, they'd be totes adorbs — but he absolutely planned on lying to the both of them to get it to work. Maybe he could fuck around with their brains to get it going. Nah, that would qualify him an actual asshole, and besides, that shit was traumatizing to Isaac. Oh hey, Chuck and Isaac were both traumatized! That was something else they had in common!

He chuckled awkwardly upon her 'not supervillain rough' comment, because it somehow felt like an appropriate response; it was actually pleasantly insightful. So many amongst the self-proclaimed superhero community loved to demonize supervillains, refusing to even acknowledge the suffering they'd been through, scoffing at the the cages and roadblocks it had took for them to reach a place where they'd become the people they were. A lot of supervillains were living stories of inspiration and success, that proved that even when no one else believed you could make it, hard work could accomplish dreams. Sure, there were the morons in animal costumes too, but plenty of supervillains were role models and heroes. He appreciated that Chuck was an empathetic person. That sensitivity was probably also a part of what made her insecure.

"Don't be so down on yourself! I mean, you're skinny, but that's because you haven't been eating enough for a while. I can tell that you're hot. I mean, I'd totally hook up with you now if on the spot if you want," he ran a hand awkwardly through his hair, flushing and looking away. It might not be accurate anyway, since he was currently crushing on Amy and drama was not the way to win her over, but normally, hell yeah. "'Sides, your noggin is actual Emotion Rehab, if you catch my drift, and you know how he is about those things." She was way more laid-back than he was right now. It was low-key a travesty.

Quentin was smart, he knew he was in the wrong. But he could not — could not — admit it now. Her even asking for confirmation meant it was too late to come clean! Quentin still had to look cool. This was still his moment with Chuck, his time to make his killer impression. Yo, he couldn't lose a recruit to the revolution, right? (he knew full well that wasn't why he felt like shit about this, but it felt better to tell himself so).

"I'd scandalized you'd make such an accusation! I'm not kidding about any of this. But he doesn't fully know that he likes you, because he knows nothing, emotionally, let alone experience-wise, but he does! I've seen his mind. Connected dots he didn't know were dots. Understood shit he never learned to. All that," he shrugged, pasting a smile on his face as internally he continued trying to justify himself. It wasn't mean if his intentions were cool. He was just fooling around like young people were supposed to, right? Besides, she was a homo sapien, even if she didn't act like one, so it was good, possibly. Homo sapiens couldn't be victims.

The Deep End was rather central to everything, giving it its local charm. Along with entire barricades made of undead corpses, he spray painted signs towards his hideout.

Any friend would be met with a drink. Any foe met with the barrel of a gun.

This voice surprised him. Halfway through his newfound collection of Homes and Gardens, he heard Quentin calling for him.

“Cookies and lean, you say?” He asks, getting up off the couch and shambling over to the door. “I wish the Girl Scouts could deliver lean. It’d make my patronage so much more worth it.”

Wade opened up the door, and ushered the kid inside. “You’re a long way from Haven. You actually get around to burning it down?”

Relief hit him at the familiar voice. Wade's brain may be a puzzle, but it was nice to see a friendly face. He looked about the area, frowning slightly. It was a cool place to live, in theory, but it was also pretty gross. Quentin liked Storm. For a main X-Man, she was pretty cool. It seemed surprisingly isolating of her therefore to send this cooler dude out here. "Right? Unjust laws dictating what it's okay to be selling for a goddamn charity? I thought those girls were supposed to be learning independence and initiative! Goddamn institution couldn't even get their story straight. Lucky the Girl Scout Association of America got extinct." On an afterthought he added, "yeah, though, if it doesn't feel right, it's your healing factor. I don't have a ton." He pulled out the reused water bottle.

"Meh, just stretching my legs," he shrugged, flippantly as possible. He was used to these type of dodging questions; honestly, he wasn't completely sure himself why he hadn't destroyed Haven yet. It was dictatorship, plain and simple, and he didn't stand for that type of oppression. But credit where credit as due; it was keeping people alive and human. And there were kids there, and burning a place down always had so much more complications than how you imagined it. "Not yet. Soon though. Just waiting for my moment. Everything is boring and I need them a bit out of their funk in so they're in more of a mind frame to appreciate my fiery judgement, yanno?"