[Look. Quentin can say pretty confidently that he doesn't believe in anything of the sort, so the wild exclamation strikes him as just that - wild, baseless, a little unhinged. But then, how can he be totally sure? He's met figures from other cultures' religions, right there in the flesh. Maybe there is a Satan out there, and a Christian God to go right along with him.
Even if that's the case, though, this guy certainly isn't it. Quentin would place more money on him being senile than on him being anything mythological.]
Great. Thanks. You're super helpful.
[He finally manages to struggle to his feet, where he tops out at about half a foot beneath the walking scarecrow.]
no subject
Even if that's the case, though, this guy certainly isn't it. Quentin would place more money on him being senile than on him being anything mythological.]
Great. Thanks. You're super helpful.
[He finally manages to struggle to his feet, where he tops out at about half a foot beneath the walking scarecrow.]
Was all that true, about regrets? Changing shit?