Darker London

"Do you mind that I'm a musician?"

The question had cut through the silence in their bedroom, though Quinn was used to Flynn asking deep questions out of seemingly nowhere. He had been reading for his thesis but he set aside the book by Kant easily enough and leaned forward in his chair. Flynn was stretched out on their bed, the covers draped lazily across his knees as he played with his tablet. He hadn't even looked up when he asked, though once Quinn moved, Flynn smiled over at him. "Something on your mind, Bub?" Quinn asked, rather than answering the question directly. Flynn didn't often use a lot of words, and it was better to understand where this was coming from before stumbling into the conversation blindly.

( Synergy )