RP: Meltdowns
Who: Tate and Quin What: Tate's Meltdown When: May 3rd (backdated!) Where: Quin's Home Warnings: Tate's a crying, drunken, odd ball mess.
Tate didn’t know when it had happened. He didn’t know that precise moments when everything went to hell, but he definitely hit it and hard. There had been a blip of good memories, he had moved into a new flat with a roommate. The flat was on Victory Road, his damn bedroom window overlooked the street. The flat was fantastic, and with someone he vaguely was connected to. Sister to a friend from years ago, he was hoping to not ruin that situation.
It had all crashed at some point though. He had started skipping out of work early and showing up later and later. There was one excuse after another. It didn’t even matter, it would take just a text from someone he knew to get him out the door. One text from Sid that just asked what he was doing, and Tate was already looking for reasons to leave work early and his friend had not even asked him to go out. He had gotten sloshed a few weeks back where he had a meltdown of sorts with Sid, where he just ranted and raved for hours about his father’s exwife and the children. He had been bringing his flask to work the past week, sneaking off for a swig (or five) every few minutes until he was tanked standing in front of his station.
How he ended up here though, standing just outside of the wards that Dora had already promised him he couldn’t get through, he would never know. It had started out simple enough, he had shown up at work an hour and a half late. His boss had been pissed but he’d been thrown on the line, they needed help and were slammed. Within the next hour, he was caught drinking in the freezer and when they took him to the clinic to test his blood alcohol levels, he had been off the charts. Being fired had not been the way he had wanted his night to start. It had however opened him up to being able to hit up a liquor store or two on his way to one of the hole in the wall bars he kept frequenting. It was there that he finished his trek towards being truly shitfaced. He had talked the bartender’s ear off about the kids, about Quin, and everything else until he had gotten himself tossed from the damn place.
As he flipped off the bar, lit a smoke, and wiped at some blood that seemed to be seeping from his nose (they really didn’t need to punch him, he may have been loud but he had been leaving!), before he started to walk. He had not known where his feet were taking him until he found himself standing across the street from the house. At some point he had picked up another fifth, which was now held in one hand as he stared at the house. It angered him to just see it, to be able to stand so close to the house that he and his father had lived in, decorated as their own, and he couldn’t even get inside! It was bullshit, every layer of bullshit. Why did she get to be inside? Why did she get to Bogart the children and not let him see them? He wasn’t a bad person, he knew the kids could never live with him, or his siblings. He wanted to see them though, they were his flesh and blood, the last connection he had to his father that didn’t hate him. His sister definitely hated him, as did his brother now. He still had two though, two that didn’t know about his fuck ups. Though he supposed they saw him as a monster, or at least had been told he was. He wasn’t though, he was nothing like his siblings and it killed him that Quin and Tim would tell the kids that. At least, his brain swore that they were telling the children all about it.
“Fucking. Bitch.” He yelled, his wand was stuffed into a pocket somewhere, utterly forgotten. Tate was the worst pureblood, he would swear it. He never remembered to use his magic when it might actually be helpful. Instead he just screamed the same obscenities at the house. It was a slew of slurred ‘fucking bitches’ and ‘how could you?’. It was punctuated by the bottle exploding as he threw it at the wards, which was then followed by a trash can that had the same fate. “FUCK!” He screamed again as he sank to his knees in the road, at the very brink of the stupid wards. He wanted to touch it, drunk brain swore it couldn’t still be there. He was fighting the urge as he reached a hand up to wipe at the crusty blood that was under his nose still from the punch to it earlier. He still had a few bruises along his temple from the fight he had gotten into late a few days prior.
Quin had been attempting to enjoy a quiet night at home. For once, Tim was at the reserve. That change of routine had, of course, given her a chaotic night because Auri whined for her uncle, used to having him home, and consequently Felix had fussed and fussed and fussed before he'd gone to sleep. She'd just finally gotten him to sleep and had curled up on the couch with a good book she'd been looking forward to reading all week.
She couldn't control the wards or adjust them, but she could, vaguely, feel them because she was a part of them. Not from Tim's work but from Ambrose's, years ago now. Before he'd decided to move them away, when he'd been trying to make her feel at home.
And then of course, the moment she opened the window she could hear the noise. She peeked out cautiously and then blinked as she recognized the drunk hurling insults at her house. And the noise would leak through the wards, as the wards reacted, and oh dear, it might wake up Felix again.
So she opened the window even more, once his hands were empty, and leaned out. "Tati! You stop that right now, if you wake the baby I'll not forgive you for it!"
He was positive that he was hearing something. His head tipped to the side, blurry blue eyes lifting to look at the window. There she was, maybe he wasn’t hearing something. “You’ll never forgive me?!?” He shouted, his face red with anger and a vein bulging. “Fuck you!” He pointed at her in the window, “I fucking called dibs on that.”
Apparently he couldn’t help it, he glanced around and looked for something else to throw. There it was, a rock big enough to break through a window and leave a baseball sized hole. He bent down to scoop it up, flipped Quin the bird with his free hand, before he threw it towards the window that would have been his room, if he was still living here. It all went sideways then. He didn’t know precisely what happened, the last thing he saw was the rock exploding near the window, activating another ward much older than the new ones that caused the explosion. That one was thanks to Lancelot. The explosion knocked a brick that activated a ward that shot a blast of defensive magic at Tate. He had been knocked immediately knocked on his ass, when he hit he had fallen back and his head had smashed to the ground. He could feel something warm in his hair, matting it down to the ground. He had definitely done some damage.
A low groan left him, though he didn’t seem to move to get up. He lazily reached a hand up to touch at his head, a slow motion. “Fuck.” He groaned, he should have known better. He knew the wards his father had put on the house, he had fucking helped. Why had he played with them and not listened to Dora? He was a fucking moron, he needed to get home. He really wished just then that he could apparate, he would have high tailed it home by now.
The words had come out that way because she was tired and it was something she usually said in jest. But it had taken hours to get the baby to sleep.
She wasn't actually afraid of him, oddly enough. Even him throwing things. For one, she was fully confident in the wards that were on the house. Several people had put them up, and she knew nothing could get through. She automatically ducked back, but even if his aim wasn't shite from being so drunk he could barely stand, the wards reacted well before she was in any danger.
She winced at the loud sound, though, and cautiously leaned back out to see him on the ground. Well. Damn.
She muttered to herself as she hastily shoved her feet into her boots and tightened the tie of her dressing gown before dashing toward the door. She paused there instinctively, thinking about how strong the wards were and how they wouldn't let anyone in... except...
She still had some of those bracelets left over from Auri's party. They were in the desk near the door, and she grabbed one and shoved it in her pocket, just in case. Then she went out and ran over to Tate, kneeling next to him, her face showing her concern clearly. "Tati! Tati, are you okay?" she asked, one small hand reaching out to brush over his forehead and then back to see about the wound.
When she had come outside, he had not heard that. There was this faint ringing in his ears, he assumed it was from the explosion and whatever had hit him. He however heard someone approaching and he tried to scurry to get up, pushing himself up on his arm and muttering something that didn’t sound at all like what he was trying to say, which was that he was fine. Instead it sounded like some jumbled words because he wouldn’t open his mouth wide enough to speak.
Then he heard that name. Tati. In that voice, her voice. “Fine.” He grumped, though he didn’t seem to move from where he had half pushed himself up. “My head…” Then, stupidly and drunkenly, he reached up with the hand that was holding him up to feel his head. He not only got a handful of blood and hair, he fell down hard where he smashed his elbow on the ground. “Fuck!” He bellowed, howling in pain as he rolled to his back and held his elbow. His hand had some blood on it, though when he had been trying to feel he didn’t feel a big gash. He hoped it was just a small cut or something.
"Tati!" Her voice held a measure of exasperation at his stubbornness. It would be familiar because he often managed to exasperate her back when he'd lived with her and his father.
She grabbed his chin firmly in his hand and turned his head toward her, making him meet her eyes for a change. "You're hurt. Let me look at it." Her voice was gentle but firm.
Then she helped him sit up, kneeling partly behind him to hold him up if needed, and tilted his head down and forward so she could try to peer at the wound on his head. "It's too dark out here. Come inside and we'll see how bad it is."
Hearing his name again, from her, so close… His heart ached in a way that it did for his father and his mother, an ache that spoke of missing his family. He tried his hardest to push the feeling away, though a hand may have come up to rub at his chest. As if that might make the pain somehow disappear.
“Fine.” He couldn’t fight her, he knew he couldn’t. He was hurt, he was extremely intoxicated, and he was in shape to be trying to do anything but sitting there. She wanted him to move though, she wanted him to get inside the house. “I’ll explode.” He muttered under his breath, maybe this was how Quin was going to finish him off. He figured it made sense, she could tug him into the wards and let them do whatever painful death would come his way. She didn’t have magic of her own and he was bigger than her, he could overpower her if she tried stabbing him. It made the most logical choice.
He moved though, trying to push himself up again. “Let’s go.”
"I would never let you explode," she told him gently. Small hands pushed him up sitting, and then she moved in front of him. Her hands slipped into his and she held them firmly, tugging, pulling. She was stronger than she looked, especially now, since she'd been working at the sanctuary on and off ever since Felix's birth.
So with a few heaves, she levered him upright and tucked herself under his shoulder immediately. "Steady now," she murmured, and then reached into her pocket and slipped the bracelet oer one of his wrists. "Come on, slowly. We'll go inside and i'll see what I can do for you."
Tate worked with her, moving when she needed him to. This wasn't the first time she had done this before, he was positive of that. When she slipped under his arm, it was normal for him. He leaned a bit into her, doing his best to not just topple her smaller frame over. He knew that if he wasn't careful about that, he would do just that.
He felt something close around his wrist, if it wouldn't have taken them both down he would have shaken his arm to get it off. Though after what felt like hours, they were inside and he had not exploded. As soon as they were in the entrance hall, all the memories came flooding back. It was just as it had been with Tim, he kept expecting his father to walk around the next corner and smile, ask him where he'd been all night. What made it worse was the fact that when his eyes slid to look at anything else, he found Quin. It just made the illusion feel so much more real and he tried to shake off the thought.
"How do you live here?" He asked, and the tone of his voice gave away the fact that it wasn't because he thought he, or his family, had any sort of claim to the house. It was because he was actually afraid of something there, and if she thought about it? She would probably be able to connect the dots as to why he was so afraid of it.
She had done this before, though less and less the longer he'd lived with them in France. He'd gotten pretty successful during that time, less self destructive, which was exactly why Ambrose had wanted him to live with them. She was also a little harder to overbalance than she seemed.
"Because it's my home," she murmured softly as she guided him into the living room for the moment. She wished she had a wand, the ability to cast wards or silencing spells, but she didn't want to immediately think the worst and bring him to the music room, where anything that happened would be quiet. "I needed a place to live closer to everything and he gave it to me for the children to have a home."
Tate’s nose wrinkled in disgust, he didn’t understand how in the world she could live in a house that felt so haunted. He sunk into the seat she deposited him into. He knew this was a terrible idea, something bad would happen. He just had this feeling, deep in the pit of his stomach. Something bad was going to happen and he had walked right into it. “Tim said they won’t know me until they’re adults.” As the words left his lips, he felt the tears threatening to spill from his blue/grey eyes. It was just moments later and he could feel the burn of the tears slipping down his cheeks, this house was too much for him. He brought a hand up to rub at his eyes, more just pushing his palm into his eye socket and willing his tears away.
“This house is fucked.” He muttered, finally dropping his hand to try to stop the offending tears. His voice was a big higher than previously, louder because he was embarrassed he had felt safe enough around her still to cry. He didn’t even cry in front of Sid. He was almost certain he had never cried in front of Sid. “Fuckin’ ghosts are around every fuckin’ corner!” His words were fast, almost run together. As his hand lifted to nervously pull at his mane, he let out a wince and quickly pulled his hand away from the wound. “Fuck!” He groaned, eyes closing as his head fell back against the back of the sofa.
"Ah, Tati." Automatically she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his temple, gentle but heartfelt. "That's not true. My brother is not the boss my family." Certainly she let him make some of the decisions, but Quin had an odd way about her of simply doing some things and either letting people figure it out or not telling them at all.
"Your sister knows about you," she said gently, tilting his head up to make him meet her eyes. She wiped at the tears gently. "You got her a little magical cooking playset for Christmas. Tim just doesn't realize. You've gotten her a gift for every major everything, even if you don't talk to me anymore. So does Felix, even though he's never met you. I never planned to keep you from them." Though as drunk as he was now, she didn't want the kids around that.
But he'd told her he never wanted to see her again. So she'd been forced to respect that, after the first few letters to him had been ignored or sent back.
"Shhhh." She clucked her tongue gently and knelt next to him on the sofa, turning him so she could get a look at the wound. "It doesn't seem too bad. I'll get some ice and some gauze and clean you up, but I want you to stay here in case you have a concussion."
While he was trying to hide the tears, the second she kissed his temple and then told him how the children already knew of him, that she had been giving them gifts? He couldn’t hold them back. His tears slipped down his cheeks, sniffling as he reached a hand up to wipe at his nose. He knew it’d be leaking soon, if it wasn’t already. “Really?” He asked in a water voice, laughing sadly. “You swear it?” While he heard the truth in her words, that Tim was not in charge of her family, he still worried. He knew older wizarding families, most still let the men rule them. He knew that it was even more difficult when a squib was involved. While Tim didn’t seem to be the type to bulldoze over Quin… Tate still worried it was a very real possibility.
Then she was moving, looking at his wound, and he was doing his best to not be a total mess. He was still crying, sniffling, and there was definitely snot that was ending up all over his hoodie sleeves. “Alright.” He muttered through it all, sniffling as he wiped at his nose against with the sleeve of his hoodie. He wasn’t intending to move from the spot she had left him in. He could feel his head swimming and knew better than to get up. If he were to stand right now, he was sure he would face plant.
"You know how awful a liar I am," she said gently. "I wouldn't lie, especially about this. Men did often rule Quin, always had, except her quietly subversive ways. She simply didn't tell Tim that she still got the children gifts from their other siblings. But she didn't see the need to make her children hate their family, or to even banish them from it. If they wouldn't threaten to take the children, she would try to include them in her children's lives. "He might not realize he's not completely in charge, but they're my children."
She didn't move immediately, though. Quin hesitated and then wrapped her arms around him, hugging him against her. She crooned gently under her breath.
While she may have said that she wouldn’t lie about it, he could still hear that small echo of Tim’s voice. How he had said, so blasé, that he wouldn’t see those children until they were adults. It had crushed Tate. Watery eyes lifted to look at Quin, sniffling at he reached a hand up to wipe at the snot that was starting to seep from his nose. “He was so sure.” He muttered, “Did he even tell you I came by?” He already knew the answer, deep down. It was a no, because why would Tim mention it? It hadn’t meant a thing to Tim that Tate had come by. Hell, it hadn’t made an impression at all. Here he had been trying to get on Tim’s good side, make friends, and show Quin that he could be in the children’s lives. He doubted at all that Tim had shared the fact with her that he’d seen Tate on more than one occasion.
Then she was hugging him, he had been so wrapped up in his thoughts about the children that he burst into tears. It was so unexpected that it surprised even him, sure he had been watery eyed and all but it wasn’t until she had hugged him that he had started sobbing. It was a drunken sob too, filled with snot, shaking shoulders, and all. He was still so mad, he wanted to push her away and yell at her for not telling him about his father, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to move his hands at all. Instead however his face ended up buried in her shoulder, which smelled so familiar. All the hugs as he’d come and go at the house, it was so familiar. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He choked out, “Why couldn’t you tell me? I thought we were family.” And that was the root of all of it, wasn’t it? He had thought they were family, that she saw him as family just as he saw her as family. It didn’t matter that they didn’t have the same genetics, she was still family to him.
Her heart ached for him, and she wanted to fetch a washcloth and wipe his face and clean him up just looking at him. "He's always so sure. He doesn't think sometimes that I might do something he wouldn't do." But she did, all the time. In some ways Tim was still a child in regards to her -- he'd not quite grasped the fact that she was in fact an adult woman who was more than his mother figure and in fact had a life outside of just that relationship.
She shook her head, sea-eyes sad. "No, he didn't tell me, or I'd have contacted you." She still hadn't, because he edict not to was still in effect; he'd made that much clear at the party.
"We are. We are family, Tati," she murmured.
A hand stroked gently over his hair, rubbed his back gently, keeping him gathered to her and hugged close. "He told me not to. You know how he was," she said, and the sadness and regret was evident in her voice. "And I obeyed him, right up until close to the end. But I tried to send you letters. I don't think you ever received them." She'd sent several, trying to get ahold of him, telling him to please come home as quickly as possible.
Tate couldn’t help but roll his eyes, he’d have to keep that in mind. Tim wasn’t at all the person he needed to deal with if he wanted to speak to Quin, or do anything with Quin. He had thought his plan had been so perfect but he hadn’t even told her about him. He shook his head, sniffling again as he wiped at his face. He was a wreck and he knew it. His head was swimming as he put his head down and looked down at his lap.
Then she said they were family and he could feel more tears. He couldn’t even stop them if he tried. He had opened the floodgates and apparently it’d just keep coming. Her next words made sense too. He knew his damn father, he knew Quin too. He knew Quin’s biggest problem was saying no, she wouldn’t have been able to say no to a dying man.
When he went to lift his head to look at her, he could swear he saw his father standing just behind her. His eyes were focused on the point, wide and filled with tears. A moment later he was looking back to her, “You swear it?” He asked in a hushed tone, “I.. You sent letters?” It took a moment for that to register, “I never got any letters.” He didn’t realize just yet that, that was the time he was living with his toxic ex. The one that would have thrown anything away to spite him. The same woman who had been jealous over Quin and Tate’s relationship. She was trouble and Tate didn’t realize just how much trouble she had been.
"Tate, I swear on my life that I sent you letters. A bunch of them, as the time neared. I would never have kept you from saying goodbye. I know despite what he said he would have wanted to see you." HEr eyes stayed earnestly on his, trying to impress upon him the truth of the matter.
"I thought you'd chosen not to come, or you didn't believe me, or something." She'd wondered if his siblings had gotten to him, in his absence from them. Or that weird friend of his, Sidney. Or that toxic ex of his. Poisoned him against her and Ambrose.
Tate’s brain was too muddled by alcohol to be able to make the connections. It was obvious though that something had prevented them from getting to him. Be it wards his father put into place to be sure that Quin did as he requested or his ex shredding them and never relaying the messages. Whatever the reason, Tate broke down. His sobs were louder, hands coming up to cover his face as he tried to hide. The pain of losing his father felt so fresh in that moment, as it was just yesterday that he had been told his father had passed. His chest ached and he couldn’t control his sobs. His shoulders shook as he hunched over, elbows on his knees.
While he did this, he was still bleeding and snot was coming from his nose. He knew he was a mess, and he needed to clean up. He moved then to get up, moving far too fast than he really should have. The world swam up to meet him, swaying precariously on his feet. “Fuck.” He groaned, “I think I need to clean up.” He sniffled, still crying though he was clearly trying to push it all back.
Quin's arms went back around him, her cheek resting on the back of one of his shoulders as she made soft shush information sounds and gently rubbed his back. "Breathe, sweetheart, don't cry," she said, and other soft, gentle comforting things.
She rushed upright as well. "We'll get you cleaned up,don't worry," she told him gently. "Sit down, there's a love, and I'll get everything you need, I promise." She'd get a basin of water and wash clothes, she'd get his cut cleaned, she'd make sure everything was all right. He was a mess, there was no hiding it. She worried about him now that she got a close look at him.
When she did things like that, acted like the second mother that he had grown to see her as? Well… It just made things harder. It made it such a mess inside his head. He was at constant war with that voice that kept screaming that she had kept it from him. She said she had sent messages though! He didn’t know how to feel or react, all he could do was just sob, trying his best to listen to her. He was focusing on breathing when she got up. He was reminding himself to breathe, seated there on the couch once more.
Then she was leaving to get what he needed. What did he need? She said everything? Though then he was left alone in the house that scared him. He didn’t realize it just yet, though he was seeing things again. It was just shadows and wisps of things, shadows darting around the corner from him. It looked like his father kept peeking at him from the shadows. By the time Quin got back to him, he was hunched over his knees with his head in his hands. “Go away.” He said every time he thought that he saw his father’s shadow hovering. He didn’t realize this time however that the shadow was being cast by Quin being back in the same room with him. “I tried to be there, they wouldn’t let me.”
"There's no ghosts here, Tate, I promise," Quin told him sadly. "I've already had that particular meltdown with Auri more than once, trust me, if you father was a ghost I would have found a way to tell you." She set down her things and sat down next to him, a damp wash cloth in hand. Her hand found his chin, and she turned it so she could start wiping his face off as if he were much younger than what he really was.
But hell, someone had to show him love, even if it was just her, his lowly squib stepmother. If this was the only way she could show it, then so be it.
"Your father loved you very much, Tati," she said after a moment as she started to clean the wound on his head. "And he would never hold you not being there at the end against you. He didn't even want me there, but there was no getting rid of me at that point. He was not a vindictive man, you know that."
Hearing her voice made him snap his head up, tears in those grey faded eyes. He heard what she had said, on some level he knew that she was right. His father wasn’t a ghost, if he had been he would have found the family himself. Wouldn’t he? Tate was pretty sure that ghosts could travel to just about anywhere they wanted, he thought. Yet he was still so afraid of the house they were in, it held ghosts of a much different variety for him now.
As Quin moved his chin, he moved with her. He wasn’t resisting the help. He knew he needed it in this moment. A soft sigh left him, sniffling as he let his eyes really settle on her when she told him that his father really loved him. He was hearing her, though how much would stick once he was sober was debatable. His head bobbed in a nod though, reaching a hand up to scratch at his eyebrow as he did so. “Can I see the kids? I can wait until they get up?” Tate didn’t realize how late it was, he just knew he wanted to see the babies. He was also avoiding talking about the love of his father, while he knew his father loved him… Hearing Quin say that he hadn’t even wanted her there? It killed him a bit, knowing his father hadn’t wanted him around when all Tate had wanted the past few years was to be there with his father during his last days.
Quin thought about it for a moment as she tended his cut. Her hands were kind and gentle, much as she always had been with him. Even though he seemed to be one of the very few people in this world who could needle her into genuine anger on her own behalf. She wished she could spell the wound closed, but she had to settle for a salve that would do it a bit more slowly. She dabbed it on carefully.
"Let's get some water and coffee into you, and when they get up you can see them," she said quietly. There was a chance that Felix would wake up tonight but she wouldn't wake him just to visit, not when she still had trouble getting him to sleep the night sometimes.
Ambrose had wanted to spare everyone the pain of his last days. Quin had managed to be strong then, for him. But after? She'd been a mess.
Her quiet was making Tate think he wasn’t going to be allowed again. If she had said no out right, there was the chance that his rage would have come back. He had been able to feel it building it up as he waited in silence. Then she spoke and while it didn’t slip away, it did recede a bit. He could obey rules, he was sure of it. He nodded his head stupidly, licking his lips. “Alright, yeah. Coffee. When do we do that?” Tate didn’t want to go wandering around the house without her, he didn’t know what sort of wards were up now. Tim had mentioned somehow about how he had bent them only to allow him in once and to certain areas, it worried him that it might still be same at the house since he really didn’t understand just how she had gotten him inside.
“When’d you get magic?” He asked suddenly, because it was the only logical explination how he had gotten in. If she had explained already how he was getting inside, he had clearly forgotten.
"After I finish this, maybe. Unless you'd like to get some sleep first?" She just rather him be more sober than not when he got to spend time with his siblings. Not that she thought he'd hurt them, but he might accidentally frighten them with the wild moods the alcohol seemed to bring.
She blinked at him. "Oh, I don't have magic," she said softly. "Still the same old Squib as ever. It's that bracelet on your wrist, it's left over from Auri's party. It gets people through the wards one time. The Charms Mistress in the Alley crafted them for us." It was annoying, to have to have someone else do that sort of thing or adjust her wards every time she wanted guests, but needs must right now.
The question was enticing, though Tate wasn't entirely sure he would be able to sleep in this house. He was sure that he would have nightmares about his father wandering the halls late at night. He shook his head at the idea, "I don't know." He admitted softly, "Where would I sleep?" He didn't want to sleep in his old room. That was definitely one thing he wasn't willing to do. He didn't know however if she had filled the guest rooms with people or things. There were significantly more people living here now than there had been when it had been just Tate and Ambrose. He knew the house was large but he still worried about these things.
Tate lifted his wrist in question, nodding his head. "Who's that?" He thought it might be Dora, they looked like her handi work but he wouldn't just assume. He instead let his wrist drop, "Do I need to keep it on?" He knew it was silly because it hadn't bothered him at all, but now that he knew about it, he was itching to get it off. "Will Tim be back tonight? Do I need to leave before then?"
"Guest room, my dear," she said. "Or my room. Either one works. I sleep with the kids some days anyway." Usually when they were sick or needy. But she'd done it. Not had much reason to since Lancelot had come into her life, though every now and again, especially when she'd come back so upset that one day, Auri had clung especially hard.
"Um, Pandora Montgomery? She's really good. She's made a bunch of stuff that helps me out at times." Quin could moderately function in the magical world, albeit in a restrained way. She depended on devices rather than innate magic.
"I'd keep it on, I think, just to be safe. And no, Tim's supposed to be out all night. So don't worry. Just let me take care of you for a change."
There were options, both options were not his old room. Something deep inside of him relaxed at that. He just nodded his head stupidly, licking his lips. “Alright.” He didn’t know which room he would take, probably the guest room. He had a feeling that her room was also his father’s old room. He really didn’t want to sleep in that room.
At hearing Dora’s name though, he nodded his head. He didn’t know why it mattered that he knew who it was. He knew she was in good hands with Dora though. He just nodded his head, reaching a hand up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. “She’s nice.” He muttered, licking his lips. Then she said that Tim was not coming home. All of his fears slipped away then, he wouldn’t be running into Tim. He didn’t have to deal with anyone but Quin, and if he could stay calm… He might see the kids. She had promised he could see them, he knew that meant he would when she thought he was safe enough to. He believed her.
“Alright. I don’t want to see him, if that’s possible. I’ll leave quietly..” He bit his lower lip, he was about to admit to something that he hadn’t told a soul. “I can’t apparate, so I need a warning… I can get what these muggles use, a cab? Or something.. I just don’t want to see him.” The other man was shorter than he was, but Tate just didn’t want to deal with it. He knew if Tim saw him in the house that it would cause problems for Quin and Tate was fairly certain it would get himself hexed by him.
"Ah, you know her? I only know her in passing. Lancelot is close friends with her fiance. So I've met her casually a few times." Truth be told, Pandora intimidated her a bit without even trying. But that wasn't wholly unusual for the Squib.
"Don't worry, you can use the fireplace or we can call you a car. Or maybe Nancy can drive you. I promise I'll take care of you."
And then she bade him to stand and slipped his arm over her shoulders and led him to the simple but nice guest room. Quin pulled back the covers and urged him to at least take his shirt off, to get comfortable.
There was so much information that probably had gone in one ear and then right back out the other, like the fact that it was Dora's charm work that kept im from being eaten alive. There were important bits that had stuck however, like the fact that Quin had wanted to tell him all about it. That his father had been the reason that he had not been able to be there for his father. He wanted to do some digging on the letter though, if he remembered this in the morning.
When she moved to help him to the room, he took the help. He usually got belligerent about now, pissed and insisting that he can do things himself. For some reason just the quiet and calm way that Quin handled him, she had all the confidence in the world and easily kept him calm. He moved with her and once they were in the guestroom, he felt better. It was a room he had never spent time in so it didn't look familiar and he didn't think about the fact he was in his father's house.
With Quin's help, he removed his shirt, and slid under the covers. His head was going to explode in the morning but he wasn't going to worry about that right now. "Thank you." He muttered from the bed, when Quin was across the room. Just loud enough for her to hear.
She even pressed a kissed to his forehead as she tucked him in. She wasn't his mother and had never pretended to be, but she was a nurturing, mothering, loving person, and the motion came naturally to her. "Always, Tati," her voice quiet in the dark. He was family. Despite some appearances, that meant a lot to her. She would get him a hangover potion and a glass of water. She would take care of him.