We're the new face of failure Who: Quentin and Renee James (as well as Quentin's familiar Willie, NPC) Where: Their apartment When: Late morning
It wasn't so much that Quentin had slept late but rather that he refused to get out of bed early. He'd been at the studio late the night before, and he was glad to get back to work on his paintings. Now, when he put a brush to canvas, he only saw art. No visions, nothing nagging at him, knowing that if he didn't finish the painting, then he couldn't change whatever he saw. Quentin needed that, the reassurance that he was still able to do what he loved without his powers getting in the way. At some point, he was going to have to truly figure out what was going on, but that would not be today.
Actually, Quentin had yet to decide what he was going to do that day. He didn't know what Calista's plans were and he'd probably text her later. It was only after he'd gone into the kitchen - wearing nothing but the shorts he'd slept in, his tattoos on full display - that he realized Renee was home, too. If he'd woken her up when he'd gotten in the night before, he didn't know and, frankly, didn't care. This was his apartment, after all, and he didn't think Renee would be staying here forever. At least, he hoped not. They'd probably kill each other before that happened. He loved his sister, he did. It was just easier to get along when they lived half a country apart.
Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he tossed Renee a wave as he went into the kitchen. Hopefully there was milk for his coffee, because he wasn't quite human until he had caffeine.