A scoff. A roll of her eyes. It wasn’t as if Quinn had never spoken to Blaine. She had. In BURSTS. Conversations with him didn’t come very often, and now with her current circumstance, they barely came at all. Besides, it wasn’t glaring. It was CONTEMPT, in the form of a long, hard stare and a silent, growing victory. ❝ What the hell do you need from me that’s going to take forty-five minutes? Because whatever it is, I’m probably not going to be very bothered about it. I have other things to do around here.
❞
Blaine patiently stood through the scoff, the roll of eyes and her ‘not glare’. He knew what it was like to be in that headspace. It wasn’t like she was the first person to go through a rebellion broadcasted towards everyone else when–in fact–it was herself she was putting through the ringer. Every individual had their own ways of dealing with their personal hells. Some let it go easy, some cringed from the world, some ran to escape. Others dyed their hair pink, grabbed a pack of cigarettes and turned into a gutter punk. Doesn’t last forever. The issues are still there. Waiting. Depending on how you were out of the gate only determined what you’ll sift through when they catch up. “Coffee and company,” he shrugged and looked past her like he was trying to find whatever those ‘other things’ were. “I don’t see anything that can’t wait. Do you? Unless your next arson attempt can’t be rescheduled. I mean–there’s still the piano in the choir room left to torch.”
pianokeysandbowties 