Quenton gripped Quinn's should and looked her in the eye. Their brown gazes meeting, his confused and hers accusatory.
"Why are you being like this today? Are you okay?" Quenton fussed, brows contoured in worry. He couldn't, for the life of him, understand why his sister was being so sensitive today. For the second time, in one day, he had to corner her emotions and gather them for her.
He wouldn't mind it if Quinn wasn't always losing them around Alora.
"Why am I? What about you—?! You're not weak, brother! Don't just let them walk over you and call you poor or any thi—"
"Quinn, no! You weren't there and you have no right to draw baseless conclusions—"
"Really Quenton? I have no RIGHT?! FOR YOU?!"
"It's not about me in general, brownie, it's about all of us. We were just coming up with a nickname —"
"No, you don't understand. You're too good and you don't see it! They were making fun of you!"
