His tongue clicked at the evident pain on his face and, after crunching down another mouthful of toast, he put the half-eaten slice on a plate and flicks the crumbs from his fingers. His head flicks across to invite her closer, but the only way that was possible was to go over or around the food placed between them.<br/><br/>Once his mouth had swallowed he offered some condolence with the kind of almost apologetic sing song people usually employed when they'd taken a joke too far. This was not a joke, but neither had he meant to push her to tears, so he resigned himself to offering some comfort. "None of that, please. Come here, park yourself on my lap. "<br/><br/>He waited for her to do just that, straightening his legs to make it easier for her and hooking his arms around her to drag her up against his chest. He was strong and held her tightly, securely. "Look, you've been good, so I won't make you do this. It can wait. Perhaps when you think you're ready to earn your collar you can pen some invites to watch you work, even to join if you'd like... But until then, forget I raised it. Hmm?"<br/><br/>The curious noise invited her to still her sobs, but the offer of a delay was hardly generous of him. He knew it, but he wasn't going to yield his position any further for her. Indeed his words were carefully picked to instill guilt at her apparent decision to - in Quentin's mind - pick her own wellbeing over his.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>