IC INBOX for The Last Voyages

[magician_king]

You know what to do.

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[credere]

It only takes him a moment to come to the room next door to his own, of course, and he taps on the door and calls through.

"Quentin...?"

[magician_king]

"Credence."

He says, struggling into the hallway. He's doing better- but not good enough. The bad eye remains hidden- although now under a patch rather than white bandages.

"Jesus mother of fucking fuck-"

Holding out his arms to him.

[credere]

Credence comes close, hugs him gently, carefully. He doesn't even notice which name Quentin is using, doesn't really care any more.

"I'm alright," he promises, even if the truth is that he can't bring himself to be anything. "I'm alright."

[magician_king]

"Yeah?"

He asks, chin tucking on top of his head, moving just as gingerly, mouth pressing in a tight, unhappy line.

"Did she just vanish?"

[credere]

"Yes. I didn't see her at all during port. I went to check up afterwards and she was just...gone."

He swallows dryly.

"Maybe the port was so bad for her she just decided to leave. I don't know."

[magician_king]

"No."

Says Quentin, and kisses the crown of his head.

"No- she'd never leave you if she could help it."

[credere]

Credence wants very badly for that to be true.

"I'm alright," he says again, like he's convincing himself. "I got a little bit drunk and-"

Hahaha nope.

"I got a little bit drunk afterwards. But I'm alright."

[magician_king]

"I'm amazed."

He confesses, quietly, not sure how to point out;

"You're going to get through it- even if it hits you in fits and starts."

[credere]

"Yes," he murmurs. "I am."

And it's bursting out of him, he can't not say it, he isn't sure why:

"I...I went home with somebody. After I found out."

[magician_king]

"What, like, biblically?"

He asks, pulling up a little, because this merits slitting his eye open and peering down at him in confusion, and a little amusement.

[credere]

Credence nods, face hot. There's a trace of a smile.

"The Bible wouldn't have liked it, but, yes. Like that."

[magician_king]

"Wow. Are you good? Were they good to you?"

Hands giving his shoulders an affirming little squeeze, like he can pat him down and check in on him.

[credere]

"I'm fine," he says, softly. "He was...very kind."

His cheeks are a little flush, still, but in a nice way.

[magician_king]

"Good. Only fantastic people should ever lay eyes on you, never mind hands."

He says, and kisses the top of his head once more, just to button the sentiment.

[credere]

That earns him a deeper blush, a small hidden smile.

"Thank you. I - how are you feeling?"

More importantly.

[magician_king]

"Stir crazy."

He says, with a groan.

"But crabby and like an isolationist?"

[credere]

"Maybe you should be going out more," Credence agrees. "Your other eye is okay, isn't it?"

[magician_king]

"I get headaches."

He says, and breathes out.

"And people want to talk to me."

[credere]

"If you're feeling stir crazy then talking to people might help to fix that," he points out, rationally.

[magician_king]

"You're people, and you're talking to me."

Reasons Quentin, holding on a tiny bit tighter.

[credere]

Credence strokes his back gently.

"I'll stay here as long as you want me to," he promises. "I don't have anywhere else to be until the dinner shift."

[magician_king]

"I'm sorry for being such a mess."

He says, but breathes out, plainly soothed by the offer.

[credere]

"No," is the answer he gets, quiet but firm. "You're not a mess. You're hurting. Don't apologise for that."

[magician_king]

He huffs once, then huffs out a laugh, because;

"Damn it, I can't let my eyes water like this, it'll burn like a son of a bitch."

Shaking his hand, to try to get the emotion out that way.

[credere]

"Sorry," he murmurs. "It's alright. Let's sit down?"

Already gently steering him towards a couch.