Quin was never one to read the Prophet religiously, but he had seen it on the kitchen table that evening and the article it was open to had caught his eye. He'd skimmed it while foraging for something to qualify as dinner, but had wholly forgotten about eating after noticing a familiar name in the paper- Lancing, Felicity's fiance had been maimed and killed by a werewolf in London.

He remembered eyeing the clock on the wall conspicuously, but knew it was far too late to even owl at that point. Abandoning the thought of food, he decided on a glass, just a glass, of whiskey to help him settle. Something about the last time he'd had too much (and not more than a glass at a time since) with Felicity still plagued him, a month later. He couldn't remember the specifics of their discussion and it was killing him. Quin remembered it getting very serious for them, but the details were incredibly fuzzy and the hangover he'd had the next day had turned him off of the drink for nearly a week. Funny how clarity came about like that.

Still, once he'd been able to stomach it again, he'd stuck to a glass here and there, nothing like he'd been doing in the days of the aftermath of the troll. The paper had struck an obvious chord, his best mate's little sister had lost her fiance tragically, but there was something else nagging at him and it was driving him mad. He'd taken a seat on his favorite sofa, and a few sips of his whiskey when the onslaught of memories began. It was like something had been flipped and he was suddenly battered by the discussion he and Felicity had had that night. It took all his willpower not to leave that very minute, but he did indulge in a second glass of whiskey that night.

The next morning he'd woken up with a new sense of knowledge and an overwhelming urge to check on Felicity. He realized now that he hadn't seen her likely because she was avoiding him after the last time and he should probably apologize for that. He had a lot to apologize for apparently. Chief among the complaints was the fact that he was an utter idiot and so he'd baked, because that's what he did, and made some excuse to head over to the Adlard family home. He skipped around to the back door, unsure of what to do, but he let himself in anyway. He expected to have to explain himself, but he found her alone in the kitchen, not entirely unlike that time after the troll trashing of his shop where she'd found him hungover and miserable.

Quin hovered near the door he'd just closed in case she wanted nothing to do with him, which he certainly couldn't blame her if she did. "Hi." A lot of heavy subjects hung over them, but he had no idea how to dive straight into them. "I brought muffins." So his usual lightheartedness would have to do until they could.

Setting his box of muffins in the counter by the door, Quin rolled up his sleeves while he watched Felicity knead the dough in the counter. She loooked decidedly miserable, but he couldn't even begin to imagine what was thing through her head.

"Want help?" This was entirely up to her. She could tell him to get out now and he would turn on his heel and walk right out, even if he didn't want to. Quin had spent a lot of last night thinking through the conversation he'd forgotten after getting far too drunk that night with her. He was no closer to being able to do anything about the situation than he was a month ago, but he still felt compelled to be here.

Relieved she didn't kick him out, Quin watched for a moment as she moved about the kitchen with relative ease. He was trying to gauge how she was doing, but he was admittedly pretty bad at reading people in situations like this. Helping someone find a sweet to try or a gift for a friend sure, but when real feelings came out, he was mostly at a loss.

Moving to take over with the dough, Quin first went to wash his hands as she took care of the pans. He dried his hands on a spare cloth and noticed the flour smudge on her cheek. "Oh, Gimpy and I are doing alright." He smiled softly at her. This fog was really making a mess of everyone's lives. Percy's leg, his shop, Felicity's fiance, nothing was the same anymore and there was no way to fix it either.

"You've got a little something, just there," Using the cloth he swiped gently at the flour on her cheek before setting it aside. "You holding up alright?" Quin did know better than to ask if she was okay, because the whole situation was not okay. Plus he wanted to know how she was handling everything.

Genuinely pleased that he'd been able to get her to smile and even laugh a little, it appeared he'd gone and ruined the momentary mirth shortly after with his move to take care of the smudge. She blushed easily, Quin was starting to notice and maybe he should stop being so familiar if it was making things awkward. Torn, Quin tried to move on, but wasn't sure how.

"It's okay not to be okay, Lis." He of all people knew that. Of course his shop was nowhere near the equivalent of a person's life, but when it was all he had, he left as is he'd lost a friend somehow.

"It really is. You can't keep it together all the time, that's unrealistic and likely unhealthy." He was one to talk, drowning everything in whiskey, but he' readily admit that he'd cried over the shop. A fully grown man crying over the destruction of his livelihood. It have been a pretty picture, but it had been necessary. Then he'd gotten plain old angry, which was even more embarrassing.

"It can't be easy... All things considered." Had he remembered their drunken conversation sooner they would have had a discussion about it by now, but now it was all getting wrapped up into one giant clusterfuck. "I'm really sorry, for a lot of reasons." He added earnestly and started to reach out, but wasn't sure how she would react.

Maybe Quin would have to talk to Percy about... this. The problem was he didn't even know what to say exactly and he didn't want to undermine anyone's position either. It was a fine line and Quin wasn't sure he wanted to share the whole story, but he hated seeing her like this. There were three of them, Felicity didn't have to shoulder all of this by herself.

Quin pursed his lips. No matter what she said, he was going to feel some level of guilty about this. Had he been in his right mind in the last month he would have done a lot differently. "Maybe not, but I still am." He did have some reasons to be sorry and they both knew it, but he wasn't to argue with her about it, not now.

This time he mustered up the nerve to reach out a hand to take hers gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm around, if you need anything." He had far too much free time on his hands these days.

Stepping a little closer, Quin replied quietly, "I won't if you don't want me to." He was firmly of the opinion that Felicity got to dictate everything from here on out. Whether she wanted nothing to do with him anymore or just wanted to drop it altogether, he would respect her choice. After spending a copious amount of time last night not sleeping and thinking through everything he should have previously, he'd come to the conclusion that nothing had to change drastically right now, nor ever if she didn't want it to. It was a hugely complicated situation and he still didn't really know what to do, but  with enough time things would settle somehow.

With everything that he knew now, Quin was still trying to process just exactly what could or would happen, but he did know he couldn't press anything. Truthfully he was still a little in shock over her admissions, but could easily see himself warming up to the idea, given enough time. They were already friends, clearly, and it certainly wasn't a far leap, but only time would tell.  

That still confused Quin a little. Why wouldn't she have said something? He would never pretend to understand how the female mind worked, but surely she could have said something. Then again, he wasn't so sure he'd have known what to do with the information even five years ago. It still baffled him, how she could harbor feelings for so long and he'd never noticed. He really was oblivious.

"Why not?" He was genuinely curious, but wouldn't push it if she didn't want to answer. Quin had to wonder how different things could have been by now if he'd known. There was no real way for him to know how he would have reacted, if he would have written it off as a childhood crush or maybe thought more seriously about it. Now was definitely the latter, he was thinking real hard on it. He remembered begging her not to marry Lancing in his drunken state last night, feeling like she shouldn't have to just "survive" or get by without help or happiness. Even now, he felt like he could at lest try. What could it hurt?