Chapter 31: The Unstoppable Mr. Q

The walk home was mercifully short. Just about forty five minutes of walking in the warm late winter afternoon with the sun beating down on them. They walked hand in hand, with Razia guiding Quentin past pockets of people who turned to stare at him as they went. Razia found herself grateful he couldn’t really see them as anything more than shapes and shadows. He would’ve hated being a spectacle.

They didn’t speak much, and Razia was grateful for that too, although that made the anticipation worse. Here she got him out of trouble she got him into in the first place, and now was going to have to defend her less than perfect actions. Quentin could’ve spent the entire walk home stewing over it and preparing over what he planned on saying to her and she never would’ve known it. It was impossible to read his expression, face screwed up against the blinding sun. Her only clue that things were okay was his hand in hers, which she squeezed. After a second, he squeezed back.

Their neighbors (and it still tripped up Razia to think of them as their anything) watched from a distance as Razia led them up to Quentin’s garden gate. After a week she wasn’t a complete stranger, and she’d even struck up a few conversations with some of them while enjoying the community courtyard. Razia opened the gate and let them in, locking it behind her. Quentin stepped forward without her, groaning and rubbing his eyes.

“I don’t suppose anyone recovered my cloak after I was arrested?” Quentin asked wearily.

“I’m afraid not. I’ll buy you a new one today if you want.”

Quentin grunted an acknowledgement and went to the couch and collapsed on it. His shoulders slumped and he sat there. Razia left him to his thoughts while she went around the house, collecting a bowl of hot water, the first aid kit, and fresh clothes for him. She set them all down on the floor in front of the couch. He looked up. “What’s this?”

“You’re hurt and you’ve gone too long without your wounds being looked at. Strip down and I’ll clean and bandage you.” Razia brandished a sponge, fixing him with an overly serious frown.

He grimaced in response, and Razia thought he was playing along with her act until he looked down and said, “thank you, but I can get that in a minute. I’m just really...tired, right now.”

“Or you could let me get it, and I can spend that time apologizing to you and trying to make things better,” Razia countered. “Strip.”

Quentin’s fingers twitched. Injuries or not, he unconsciously hugged his arms close to his body, hunching over. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s unnecessary. Thank you, though.”

This could’ve been him still angry at her and trying to brush her off, but Razia didn’t think so. No, there were enough little hints throughout the time they’d spent together to make Razia suspect there was something deeper at work there. In all that time, he’d always been completely clothed around her, usually wearing his cloak. Even his normal clothes were fairly conservative and tended to be large, even for his bigger frame.

“Quentin?” said Razia, straddling the couch and moving closer. She’d have to approach this carefully. She reached out and put her hand on his arm. He didn’t jerk away but he did look up. It was a start. “Whatever’s happened to you in the past, it wasn’t by me. I’m not going to judge you or hurt you.”

Quentin swallowed hard. He chanced looking at her through the corner of his eye. “I never said you would.”

“Then why don’t you strip down and let me see to your wounds? They’re in an awkward place for you. Let me take care of this. Please.” She smiled at him.

There was no answer for several seconds. Eventually, he let out a sigh. “Promise me you won’t laugh, or be disgusted, or...Or anything like that.”

“Is drooling allowed?”

Quentin scoffed. “There’s no way...Whatever.” He took another few seconds to steel himself, then stood up. He undid his belt, letting it drop to the floor. Reaching down for the bottom of his tunic, he slowly pulled it up. It stuck in a few places where blood made the fabric cling to his skin. Razia was tempted to help him, but she sat back and let him work. One more tug and he was almost completely naked, save for the cloth tied around his waist keeping his privates hidden.

And there was nothing there for Razia to mock or judge. Quentin was a large man with a fit body and the start of a paunch. His skin was the same too pale pink all over, occasionally darkened by bruises or the occasional mole. He had scars all over, and thin white hair on his chest. There was nothing wrong with him, but Razia knew that wasn’t the end of it. The wounds of the past could ache for a lifetime.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Razia said. “You look fine. You look good.”

His head shot around to face her. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”

Razia rolled her eyes theatrically. “I’m being honest. You. Look. Good. To. Me. Now either sit down and let me clean you up or stay standing and I’ll keep ogling.” In a softer voice she said, “I’ve seen hundreds of men naked Quentin, and there is nothing wrong with your body. I promise.”

He sat back down, still facing away from her. That was fine, that left the nasty cut going up his side facing her. Razia dipped the sponge in the hot water and tenderly washed away the blood from the sides. Despite how long it was, the cut was shallow and already partially scabbed over. She was careful not to disturb those scabs as she cleaned around the wound.

“This is...This actually looks a lot better than I was expecting,” Razia admitted as she looked at it. She gently put her hand to the side of it. The skin wasn’t any hotter than usual, which probably meant it wasn’t infected. “This looks like it’s healing on its own.”

“Yeah, I heal pretty well, and fast,” said Quentin, shivering and straightening up as her fingers slid up his side.

“Sorry,” said Razia. “Do the wounds even hurt?”

Quentin shook his head, but he was half smiling. “It’s fine. They sting quite a bit, but pain is nothing new. How are my arms?”

His arms, as they turned out, were more of the same. Once she cleaned away the blood and dirt they looked like they were already well on the way to healing. His chest was the only cut that looked bad enough to need treatment, and even then it was as simple as packing the wound with an odd smelling poultice Quentin assured her was safe and clean.

She no sooner announced that she was done than Quentin had the fresh tunic and was pulling it on and over himself. Razia took the medical kit and put it away, coming back with a water skin and a plate of fruit. Quentin took them gratefully and collapsed back onto the couch. “Thank you,” he said.

Now that his basic needs were seen to, the guilt came creeping back in. “I’m really the one who should be thanking you, Quentin.” Razia sidled up closer until they were just barely touching. “You got drugged by the drink that was meant for me, and then even while high off your ass you fought to defend me. And won. I’d be insanely thankful for all of that, but to have to deal with the Watch and almost get sentenced to death...What would’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten your Arbiter friend in time?”

Quentin shrugged, eating a piece of melon. “My boss would’ve laughed his ass off at me, for one. That would’ve made his day. I don’t think I would’ve gotten the chance to fight for my freedom though. Amicus would know better than to just lose a gladiator like that. He probably would’ve put me in an unwinnable situation and had me tortured to death in front of thousands.”

Silence.

“So yes, I’m extremely grateful to you,” Razia said. “And I’m sorry for all the trouble. Since we made our deal, you’ve bailed me out of all kinds of trouble and given me safety. You’ve more than lived up to your end of things. Do you think I’ve lived up to mine? Are you any happier than you were before you met me?”

He was silent for a few minutes. Razia’s first instinct was to take it as a sign that he wasn’t, and to panic, maybe try to sweet talk him. But as impulsive as she could be, Razia had the experience to just shut up and let him work through things. As his fingers fiddled together, she knew he was thinking and thinking hard.

“I think I am,” he finally said, turning to look at her though he remained leaning forward. “I’m not sure I’m the kind of person who can be happy overall, but I’ve...I’ve enjoyed the past week. Even with the fighting. Hell,” he scoffed, smiling crookedly, “especially. You know me pretty well at this point. I think you might be the only one who does. And it’s been nice being...accepted. I feel like everyone except Isa likes me.”

“Isa can be a nasty bitch,” Razia said helpfully. “Even to people she likes. The fact that you helped her out is unforgivable to her, because she knows she’s being shitty to you and doesn’t have an excuse.”

Quentin chuckled. “I don’t mind her as much. I find it refreshing and familiar, to be honest. And Samantha is nice too, though she can be a bit much at times. I didn’t expect to meet and like Maria, or Lucy, or Amy and Jenna. I didn’t expect to be welcomed in, or accepted, and most of them seem to.”

“They do,” Razia confirmed.

“Which is why I’m upset that apparently things aren’t what I thought they were.” There was no change to his tone, but Razia still winced. “I thought I was honestly making friends through personal merit. I didn’t know they viewed it as a transaction. How long was that going on?”

It was Razia’s turn to fall silent as she thought about her answer. She stared at the clear blue sky through the skylight, making the pool glitter in the midday light. She thought about the past few days and how she wanted to word things. Being open and honest wasn’t easy, when most of her job consisted of putting on a performance and letting people believe she was as into them as they were into her. With Quentin, she found herself wanting to be honest. If only because he didn’t seem capable of guile himself.

“Not long,” she finally answered with a sigh. “However you’re thinking it happened, it’s probably not that. It all has to do with reputation.”

“What reputation?” Quentin asked, incredulous. “I’m invisible at best. At worst I’m a momentary weird thing for people to see and then forget about when I’m not around.”

“Would you stop that? The only reason you’re surprised by any of this is because you insist on seeing yourself in the worst possible light and ignore what’s actually going on. Maybe that’s how things worked for most of your life, but that’s not what it’s been like with me. Once people get used to your appearance, things change.

“No matter what you tell yourself Quentin, people remember you. You just need to actually be around and participate for it to happen. And you have been. You want to know how your reputation has developed?”

Quentin shrugged, but nodded.

“Alright,” said Razia, turning to face him directly. “First you hang out with me. Maybe no one remembers or talks about it, but it happens. Then you go looking for me and cause trouble along the way.”

“That wasn’t intentional.”

“Too bad, it still happened! And that got both me and Samantha to really notice you more than we already had. I bust the girls out, and me and you both share the blame for that, in others’ eyes. Sorry, but that’s how it goes. So what happens? You keep defending me and Samantha sees it. You defend her. We go out together, and you defend Isa, and everyone finds out about it. At this point, it’s not just me talking, but Samantha, Maria, Lucy, even Isa, and also all the people who watched you take on ten men and win.”

“Hey,” Quentin protested. “It wasn’t ten men. It was like, maybe six of them and they were all drunk as hell.”

“Yeah, sure, of course. Anyone would’ve been able to take them on and win. C’mon now, Quentin.” Razia raised a brow. After a second he begrudgingly grunted his acknowledgement. “So now you have an entire tavern of people who saw it and saw you surrounded by lovely working girls who wouldn’t leave you alone after. At the end of that first night, people were already talking. The girls were already talking, and I had no part of that. What do you think you are to them, Quentin?”

Silence again. Quentin shrugged, looking away from her. Razia was beginning to understand his body language. He didn’t want to admit that she had a point, or that his self hatred was wrong. “You show up and immediately treat them better than most men. You don’t grope them or grab them or make any attempts to get close just to fuck them. That alone would’ve gotten you some love. But then you go out of your way to help them when in trouble -- “

“It wasn’t out of my way!” Quentin blurted out. “I was sitting right there. I had a direct line of sight to them hurting Isa and her trying to get away from them. They hit her. What was I supposed to do, just sit there and watch it happen?”

“Most people would’ve done exactly that, Quentin!” Razia didn’t hold back the laughter this time. “That’s what I’m trying to get across to you, you silly bastard. You don’t care if someone gives you shit but you have no tolerance for others being messed with around you. And so in just a couple of days you developed a reputation that was feeding itself. I don’t know if you’ve realized this by now, but us girls talk. A lot. Amy and Jenna more so than most of us.”

Quentin shuddered, but he was smiling. Just fifteen minutes sitting between the two of them was like living through a tornado of sound. Razia took that smile as a good sign and pressed on.

“Two days ago Lucy asked if she could get in on what Samantha and I had. I told her that we had a special deal going with you. She begged and told me that being around you was the safest she’s felt while working.”

In truth, Lucy had more or less tried to get in on it that first night. Razia first had an inkling when Lucy brought a client over and asked Quentin for his blessing. She’d written it off as just copying what she and Samantha were doing, which was just touching bases, and it took off from there. It wasn’t until later that Lucy out and out spoke to her about it.

“I don’t get it,” said Quentin. “Isa certainly doesn’t feel safer around me.”

Razia rolled her eyes. “Isa doesn’t like that she doesn’t have any valid complaints about you. It pisses her off, so she’ll use any reason. You notice that she still comes by and comes to your table? She treats you like shit and she still knows that she can hang near you and still enjoy the benefits of your presence. You really don’t get it.

“To these women, you aren’t Quentin Quintius, tormented executioner and lonely hermit who spends his nights reading and brooding.” She nudged him, getting a smile Quentin couldn’t suppress. “You’re the unstoppable Mr. Q, the patient but strong man who has no time for anyone treating his girls wrong.”

“Mr. Q,” Quentin groaned. “I’ll never forgive Samantha for starting that. It sounds so stupid.”

“It sounds fond,” Razia countered. “And mysterious. And like it or not, that’s how people are starting to know you.” Razia leaned in close and pointed out there. “You see that guy in the corner? That’s Mr. Q. You want some primo pussy, you go to him and for the love of the gods do not disrespect him or his girls.”

Quentin rubbed at his eyes. “Why would I want to be a pimp? Admittedly, my experience with them is limited but I was not impressed.”

Razia laughed. “So don’t be like that. Think of the girls. Think of Maria, Samantha, and the rest of them. They like you, you like them. Orchrisus is dangerous and plenty of people don’t take no for an answer. Why not try something new in your life? You already told me you don’t spend every night at the Colosseum. You have plenty of free time, and you could make their lives better.”

Quentin took his time thinking about it. He paused to eat some fruit, staring off into the distance in the way that he did, careful not to stare at other people directly. At first Razia had thought it was shyness. Goodness knows Quentin was shy. No, Razia suspected it was to show he wasn’t intentionally saying nothing at her to intimidate her. Eventually he took a big drink of water and turned his intense gaze back at her.

“I didn’t know it was going on as it was going on. I think that shows that it wouldn’t change too many things in my life. But I can’t help but feel like this conveniently helps you out. A lot.” He spread his hands. “I want to trust you Razia, but you’ve shown...you’re proud of never doing things for just one reason. I don’t need any more money. I already have a job I’m good at. What do I get out of this?”

Maybe it was dirty, but it was too ingrained in Razia for her not to do. She was a physical person by nature, and tended to communicate in touch. Razia draped herself in his lap and stole a grape from him. Instantly his jaw set and his entire attention was on her. Razia smiled at him as she popped the grape into her mouth.

“Quentin,” she said, looking up at him upside down. “You’d get to spend your evenings with a group of beautiful women who like and accept you. You get to get in fights with people who try any shit. You get to show your face in public and demand respect. And best of all, you spend your evenings with me.”

The look of sudden longing and hunger in his eyes made her pulse quicken. There it was. He wasn’t completely opposed to the idea, and that was what she liked to see. But almost as soon as it was there it was gone again, replaced by a frown.

“I...I can’t keep shaking the thought that you’re using me. Especially when you...When you do that. And you know exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t like feeling like things aren’t real. When you tease me like that, I…” He huffed, frustrated that the right words wouldn’t come. He dropped his gaze. “What are we, Razia?”

It was tempting to joke or tease him more, but she couldn’t. Not about this. “At bare minimum we’re friends, Quentin. What do you want us to be?” She asked the question simply, without any change in her voice. She might as well have whispered it dramatically for how Quentin reacted. He swallowed hard and cautiously put his hand on her side.

“I…” His eyes darted between her and the floor. “I don’t want to feel like you’re offering to fuck me out of pity or to bribe me. I don’t want to be just another transaction.”

Razia put her hand over his and gently moved it up closer, stopping just before reaching the gentle swell of her breast. “You’re not. This is who I am, Quentin. This is how I am. I accept you. Do you accept me?”

He looked so very badly like he wanted to. Excitement built up in Razia as his hand on her moved. Slowly, over her breast and further on, stopping over her heart. “You wouldn’t stop doing your job, if we were together.” It wasn’t a question.

Razia shook her head. “This is who I am,” she repeated. “We have very different views on sex and relationships. But I give you my word that just because I am more open about it that doesn’t mean it matters any less to me.”

There was that hunger again. It didn’t disappear this time, though it was tinged with a bit of sadness. “Let’s say I don’t want to be your pimp. Does this offer go away?”

Razia smiled at him, amused but understanding. She shook her head. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do, Quentin. I just want to show you a good time and maybe help you find some fulfillment in your life. Help me or don’t. Be my lover or don’t. I’ll be here regardless because I know you won’t hurt me. All I want is for Samantha and Maria and the rest to feel as safe as I do.”

She knew right away it was the exact right thing to say. Quentin closed his eyes, sighing. “Really? That’s dirty,” he said, but underneath the faux annoyance Razia could tell he liked the idea of being considered safe. She had a lot on offer here, and she saw the last of the fight go out of him. Was it manipulative to give someone what they wanted?

Quentin pulled away from her and stood up. “I have a lot to think about,” he said. “It’s not a no. Not yet. But…It’s a maybe.”

Razia grinned. “Maybe? To which part?”

He eyed her, smiling in spite of himself. “It’s a maybe. For now, I need to lay down. My everything is killing me.”

She suspected Quentin just needed some space to think. That was fine. Razia could work with that. Razia could work with a solid maybe. Maybe with time he’d understand that she really did plan everything with multiple reasons in mind. Razia wanted it all, and she planned on getting it.