[ He watches Quentin, then his eyes trail down to the bits of Quentin that remain covered by the lab coat. ]
No shit. You’re lucky you didn’t get your dick blown off. Also - excuse me, you didn’t earn that cigarette. I’m not wasting my menthols on a guy who can’t appreciate me.
[Quentin ignores the look and just narrows his eyes at Eliot, who is not handing over the cigarette.]
That's not a thing that happens. Dicks getting blown off. [and he really wishes he was more sure about that, but rumors--] Suit yourself. I didn't want to smoke anyway.
[And he picks up his book again, not really reading but sneaking looks at Eliot out of the corner of his eye to find the perfect, unprotected moment when he can steal the cigarette.]
I don't want to blow my dick off, no. How is that even--
[Quentin eyes the cigarette, and the way Eliot shapes his lips around it when he smokes. The curl of smoke that hides his face for a brief second, and he should probably look away.]
They could be anywhere. Another dimension. In Jersey. They could be invisible?
I don't know. I think if they were invisible, you'd still feel them on your body. And I'd probably be able to touch them. Like. They'd still … Be there, just unseen.
[ Just to see, because, really, who knows, Eliot sits up so he can grope Quentin's leg a bit. ]
[It's not quite a yelp, but it's also not not a yelp when Quentin flinches a little, before he rolls his eyes, turning to Eliot.
Jesus.]
Yeah, no. That's me. Eliot, no. I meant, maybe they flew off and turned invisible somewhere else. I know I'm not wearing them now, because nothing pinches or. Just. It's fine. I have a lap coat.
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[ Kicking off his shoes, Eliot stretches out on Quentin's bed beside him, exhaling cigarette smoke up to the ceiling. ]
So, did everyone's clothes disappear or just yours?
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[Quentin tips the book to lie face down against his chest and just reaches over to take the cigarette out of Eliot's hand.]
But. I should know better than to not move when someone is yelling move. At magic school.
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No shit. You’re lucky you didn’t get your dick blown off. Also - excuse me, you didn’t earn that cigarette. I’m not wasting my menthols on a guy who can’t appreciate me.
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That's not a thing that happens. Dicks getting blown off. [and he really wishes he was more sure about that, but rumors--] Suit yourself. I didn't want to smoke anyway.
[And he picks up his book again, not really reading but sneaking looks at Eliot out of the corner of his eye to find the perfect, unprotected moment when he can steal the cigarette.]
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[ Eliot exhales smoke again, letting it curl into fun shapes as it floats towards the ceiling and dissipates. ]
I wonder if your clothes are in another dimension.
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[Quentin eyes the cigarette, and the way Eliot shapes his lips around it when he smokes. The curl of smoke that hides his face for a brief second, and he should probably look away.]
They could be anywhere. Another dimension. In Jersey. They could be invisible?
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[ Just to see, because, really, who knows, Eliot sits up so he can grope Quentin's leg a bit. ]
I don't feel cheap denim.
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Jesus.]
Yeah, no. That's me. Eliot, no. I meant, maybe they flew off and turned invisible somewhere else. I know I'm not wearing them now, because nothing pinches or. Just. It's fine. I have a lap coat.