Quinn frowned, his eyes chasing the her attention to the phone. "Okay," he responded resigned to the knowledge that there was probably nothing that he could do to cheer her up. It wasn't some break up where a pint of ice cream would get them through it all, onto the next guy. Watching her like this brought up the reminder that he knew close to nothing about the past five years of her life. It hurt him deeply to not know this person in front of him. It was then that he became aware of the kind of misery that he had never endured before and that it had sewn itself in to the very fabric of the person she had become. Not the drunken rampages of Michael, not the beatings from his step-father, not even the death of his father had given him this kind of irreparable damage.
This was a matter of her life or death.
He stayed quiet for a moment, watching Rachel with the kind of hesitance of someone unsure of how to step next. There was nothing he could say to quell her fears of losing Damien or returning to a horrible life. There was nothing he could do to lift her mood or make her forget. There was nothing, nothing at all. He began to wonder how dangerous being in the Rabbit actually was for him and his thoughts flitted upon Malakai.
Quinn found his hand on the bottle of whiskey as he was pouring the shot, pulled from his reverie by the sound of what he was doing. He poured two shots sloppy, not bothering to weigh his seconds against his pour. Proper measurements wouldn't matter tonight, he figured. With a head in the clouds and the feeling of watching himself from some outside perspective, Quinn circled the bar with both shots in hand and sat down in the stool next to Rachel, scooting it closer so that he was touching her side when he sat. He took the first shot without hesitation, grimacing against the burn and choke of a rough whiskey he hardly drank. But it was warmth that followed, chasing amber liquor down his throat and echoing from his chest until his tension eased.
"I'm so sorry, Rache." About everything: all of the bad things, the bad people, the bad memories, the fear, the humiliation, the anger... But is lips couldn't find the strength to name such atrocities. Naming them, for Quinn, would mean that they were true. And he didn't want them to be true of his Rachel, the one who smiled big and helped him steal laundry soap from the grocery store when they were poor. The one who tiptoed quietly to her room when she knew he had a guy over. The one who tucked him in at night and checked on him every few hours after he had tried to call his own life quits. She had always been too good for the world and he hated that someone had the ability to reduce her to nothing.
He didn't bother to look at her, but threw an appreciative arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently closer. Quinn rested his cheek against the top of her forehead, hoping that she would remain there and let him do what he could to ground her, instead of pushing him away.
-----
Pierre pursed his lips thoughtfully as they hit a dead end on the sire bond trail. Maybe it didn't mean anything at all, and that Sam was just getting further away from the connection. Maybe it worked like that sometimes.
When her playful punch came, he tried not to start, his nerves getting the best of him. Shen looked away from his just as he had found her gaze on him again and he wondered a ridiculous thought. Pierre smirked at her tiredly, but thankful to have her to jest with, even if it was about nothing in particular.
"I'm glad you're here with me," he said truthfully, though presently unaware of any impact his words may have caused anyone. "I really wasn't looking forward to spending the rest of the night alone." He leaned towards her, his nose coming close enough to her hair to allow him the pleasure of her scent. It had been a few months since he had been so close to another woman who wasn't Nadia and Pierre couldn't say that he minded the proximity of Lisa-Joe all that much. He spoke into her ear just below human hearing to her in an attempt at a jest, though the humor neither filled nor comforted him. "Rachel doesn't tend to be good company when she's worried for hers or Damien's life."
