Q

[goodfellow]

The last time Robin had seen Quentin, he had at some point boasted about the state of the security in his building. Apparently he had been overreaching in this confidence.

The first text was a photograph. It was of Robin's bedroom, taken with a camera with a very, very good zoom, from a building across the street. Angled slightly upwards, as the building was shorter, and Robin was in the penthouse. He usually didn't bother to close his blinds for this reason. And also because he didn't really care. Though he hadn't expected anyone to take advantage of that to photograph him.

Though it wasn't just him in the photograph: it was him and Quentin, from the one time they had had sex in Robin's home. Robin was on his back with his legs wrapped around Quentin, who despite his small stature was actually quite good at topping (and who had balked a bit when he'd seen the size of Robin's cock).

A text followed it: he's bored out of his mind. fucking you is like doing his taxes.

That was all that came, until the next day, when another photograph arrived. This one was also of Robin's bedroom, empty this time. An unmade bed. Except this time the photograph was clearly taken by someone standing inside the bedroom.

And following that picture were a string of texts detailing Robin's recent sexual encounters, each critiquing his performance in increasingly vulgar and cruel terms.

And at the end of those, a voice recording. Quentin's voice saying "I apologize, I'm not good company tonight. Perhaps I should go while you still have time to salvage your night."

A text followed: kind of him not to just tell you what utter rubbish you are. the little whore will fuck anything that moves, but he draws the line at you.

Robin grew more and more murderous as he read through all this, coming close to throwing his phone against the wall. In the end, he called Quentin, whom he hadn't spoken to since that night, and demanded to meet him. He chose a bar on the other side of the city from his apartment, and waited for him there.

Comments

[quartermaster_q]

"No, I can't say he has. ...That's not a tender spot for me though," he pointed out. "He did help a group of terrorists abduct me during a mission in Paris, however. I must admit, I'd take a few snide texts over torture any day."

[goodfellow]

"So would I," Robin said. And it was true.

"I know you probably think my pride is my defining characteristic, but I'm more concerned about the surveillance than the mockery."

[quartermaster_q]

"Unfortunately- I don't yet know how he's monitoring people," Q admitted, looking unhappy about that fact.

[goodfellow]

"Well then, if it makes you feel better as well, I think I'll be hiring some personal security for a time," Robin said. A vampire, perhaps. No, useless in the daylight. Perhaps a werewolf.

[quartermaster_q]

"I think that's a wise thing to do," Q agreed, nodding a little. "I can't stress to you enough how much of a danger I fear he could be to you."

He sighed then, looking out the window once more.

"I am very sorry for inadvertently dragging you into all of this Rob."

[goodfellow]

"At least you don't bore me," Robin said.

"Besides, I've been dragged into worse. The Napoleonic Wars. Family feuds among gods. The underworld, once."

[quartermaster_q]

Q raised a brow at that, leaning back in his seat.

"So what are you then?" he asked. "Not a vampire, clearly, so- What?"

[goodfellow]

"I'm a puck," said Robin. Then - "Which, no, is not a type of fairy."

[quartermaster_q]

"Rob Fellows. ...Robin Goodfellow. Clever," Q replied, not questioning or doubting what the man- Or, rather the puck- said.

[goodfellow]

Robin laughed. "Not really. But feel free to call me Robin. And yes, I knew Shakespeare, and no, I've never had hooves."

[quartermaster_q]

"I'm sure there are fetishists all across London who are heartbroken to hear that," Q quipped dryly, offering the barest hint of a smile.

[goodfellow]

Robin grinned. "Speaking of fetishes how do you feel about older men?"

[quartermaster_q]

"Enjoying older men is exactly what landed me in this mess," Q snorted- Making light of a situation that had very little humour in it.

[goodfellow]

"No, enjoying a man who controlled you is what got you in this mess," Robin said. "But that is a kind of mess that many have been in before."

[quartermaster_q]

"I suppose that's true," Q said softly. "The heart wants the strangest things, doesn't it?"

[goodfellow]

"So I hear," said Robin, which was not exactly a genuine response. Robin liked to put off that he wasn't capable of that kind of feeling, which was complete bullshit, of course. But maybe it had been long enough that he'd forgotten what it felt like, at least.

[quartermaster_q]

Q didn't balk at that, or show any signs of shock. He hadn't been confessing love to the man or anything like that. Truthfully, love was such a rare feeling for him that he didn't doubt there were others who knew nothing of it.

"I don't suppose they serve tea here," he said after a moment.