Quentin was really bad at being the "chin up" kind of guy, hence why he'd decided that drinking so much was a good idea. Hell, he still thought it was a good idea, so it was probably a good thing that Roxy had taken the alcohol away. Just meant he'd have some for later, if it came down to that.
Tell the truth. It was easier said than done, but Roxy herself probably knew that by now. "If I can get her to listen to me, then I will tell her," he said, looking down at the tattoos on his arms, remembering tiny boo ghosts drawn between them, and even Trogdor to join his dragons. "I don't - I know you're not bending over backward for me or anything. Hell, might tell her to call you, but I think she'd forget." Or call Roxy up screaming, Quentin really didn't know. Hell, Calista had slapped him, for crying out loud. Quentin looked up in time to see her sticking her tongue out at him, "Hey, at least things haven't gotten worse yet. I haven't seen anything." In part because he'd been sure not to touch his art since before the full moon party, not wanting any visions to come when he was already screwed.