[Father said every man is the arbiter of his own virtues and whether or not you consider the act courageous is of greater importance than the act itself. He also said that every man is just a doll stuffed with sawdust swept from the trash heaps where all previous dolls had been tossed away, their sides split open and everything spilling out. Quentin can hear the soft clink of the ice cubes against his glass, the ice fading into the whiskey as the light turned grey.]
Rather, there just wasn't any use in it anymore. Not for her and not for me.
[His hands have curled into impotent fists that tremble at his sides, and his jaw clenches in conviction, in some unnameable rage or sorrow that festers underneath his skin. He has forgotten that they stand in the middle of a bustling town square. The throngs of people pushing past sound far away, muffled as though beyond a sturdy wall in which only he and Lucifer are enclosed.]
no subject
Rather, there just wasn't any use in it anymore. Not for her and not for me.
[His hands have curled into impotent fists that tremble at his sides, and his jaw clenches in conviction, in some unnameable rage or sorrow that festers underneath his skin. He has forgotten that they stand in the middle of a bustling town square. The throngs of people pushing past sound far away, muffled as though beyond a sturdy wall in which only he and Lucifer are enclosed.]