Ugh, right? [Quentin sighs.] It seems like it should be a small thing compared to all of this but like, it still sucks. My boyfriend is a bit of a prima donna with very good hair so he's having an existential crisis over it.

[Quentin doesn't ask if he can sit with her, it's her space, her safety, so instead he steps away for a moment to get a chair from elsewhere and bring it over. He doesn't know if he's welcome or not, but she doesn't seem entirely against conversation. He just doesn't want someone feeling lost and alone if he can help it.]

I know it's hard when there's a whole group of strangers around in a weird place like this, but people are mostly really nice. If you need any easy job Clarke and Stephen own the Red Wings place and hire all of us.