Sam chews his food too noisily for Quinn's liking, but it's something that she has grown used to over the past few months. When she cooks, which happens to be most nights, she tries to make soft things, like ramen noodles or some kind of soup. Even if the weather in Charleston is ninety-six degrees with one-hundred percent humidity, Quinn likes soup. She's always been like that, although in Ohio, it was rarely that hot. It's one of her comfort foods; soup reminds her of home. She won't admit it out loud, but she does miss home. Charleston is nice, but it's warm, heavy winds, lack of rain and proximity to the ocean is just … different. Quinn tries to convince herself that different isn't bad, and she knows it isn't. It just takes getting used to.
Tonight he is peculiarly quiet, which makes Quinn suspicious. She watches him chew for a few seconds. She doesn't like this silence. She wants him to talk, to reassure her that nothing today has or will go wrong. When he doesn't say a word, she decides to start the conversation.
"Met an interesting girl at work today." Sam raises an eyebrow curiously. "Her name's Tina. Took an interest in those pendants that Collins brought in. I told you about those, right?" He doesn't look up.
"I think so." That's all she can get out of him; Sam doesn't seem to care about her day at work when there's food in front of him. He's the kind of boy who can't do too many things at once without getting confused. He brings his bowl to the sink in their tiny kitchen. "So, uh, Mike's coming over tonight. He's bringing his XBOX. You can hang with us if you want to. Don't know if you'd be into his type of game, though."
Quinn sighs. She should have known. While she has to worry about how Rachel Berry got her phone number, the letter from her ex-boyfriend and the health of her baby, the most important thing on Sam's mind is what video game he'll play next.
Mike sets up his XBOX 360 in a matter of minutes and sits on the couch next to Sam. The game of the day is Portal, but Quinn can't find enough energy to act like she cares. She sits on the floor in front of the couch, leaning her head back against Sam's knees.
"Quinn. You okay? You kinda look like you're dying down there," Mike observes. Quinn nods.
"Crap on a stick!" Sam exclaims, "Mike, you're supposed to help me out here, man. That's why it's called multi -player." Quinn can't help but laugh, but upon seeing Sam's face, she covers her mouth.
"Dude. Your girl looks seriously down. Sorry for making conversation." This catches Sam's attention. He looks at Quinn pervasively and runs his fingers through her hair. It's like now is the first time he's seen that she's not the happy-go-lucky girl he knows.
"What's wrong?" Quinn doesn't know how to answer his question. There are so many things that are wrong. There's a war going on in Afghanistan (or has it ended? She can't really remember), there's a genocide in Uganda, and almost a thousand people die every hour from preventable causes. Charleston is too hot in the winter, but Ohio is too cold. Her boyfriend likes playing XBOX instead of paying attention to her. And everything she worked so hard for? It's all crashing down around her.
"I'm just tired. Don't worry about me." But Sam's gaze is persistent. "I'm fine, I promise. I just need to sleep." He doesn't appear to be satisfied with her answer, and begins to massage her shoulders. Quinn inches forward so that she is no longer within his reach. He frowns.
"What did I do?" He honestly sounds concerned. Quinn feels badly for snapping at him, but at this point in time, it's one of her only options.
"Nothing. If you wanted to talk, you would've talked to me earlier. Play your stupid game." With that, she heads into the small bedroom that they share. Sam can sleep on the couch tonight. It wouldn't be the first time that he's fallen asleep with a game controller in one hand and a bag of chips in the other.
She wakes up to the soft feeling of fingers brushing hair out of her face. Her muscles tense and suddenly Quinn is unable to move. The air is heavy, suffocating her and working against every move she tries to make. She rolls to the side, her body now facing that of Sam. He makes a comforting noise and runs his fingers through her hair again.
"You aren't mad at me, right?" he asks. Quinn searches for any bit of antagonism in his eyes but finds nothing. She can't stay mad at him for long. A smile spreads across her face and she shakes her head.
"I could never stay angry with you." She presses her cold body against his warm one and kisses his lips. His arms are not strong, but when they wrap around her, all of her worries disappear instantly.
"Is there anything I can do?" That's the Sam that Quinn knows; he always has to play the hero and help the damsel in distress. It's probably a product of his Southern charm and lovely parents, who Quinn gets along with quite nicely. She wants to tell him no and fall asleep like this in their moment of silence, but finds herself unable to do so.
"Hold me?" Sam places his lips on her forehead and pulls her closer, reminding her that even on a Monday, there are people who can make her smile.
The Asian girl is at the gallery when Quinn arrives at work the next day. She's wearing all black – tights, a tutu, and a leather jacket. Quinn can't help but take note of the contrast between the bright pink streaks in the other girl's hair and the somber attire she's dressed herself in. She's peering intently at the artwork in front of her, leaning forward so she can get a closer look. Quinn takes her place behind the desk and looks at some brochures. The gallery is mostly empty again; it's only busy on the first few nights of a new show.
"Do you know Mike Chang?" the girl asks Quinn, leaving behind the tiny spoons and beads to stand across from her. Quinn nods. "Oh, cool. He's my boyfriend. He said you guys hung out last night?"
Quinn feels awkward. She doesn't know what to say to this girl. They've only talked once, and while their conversation had been stimulating, Quinn wasn't sure why the girl took such an interest in her. Quinn wasn't boring; after all of her years as the captain of the cheerleading squad, homecoming queen, and student council president, the last word she would use to describe herself was boring. But what kind of person just walked up to an employee at an art gallery and asked for their life story? It wasn't uncommon in Charleston, where your business was truly the business of everyone around you. Her mind was just stuck in Ohio, in the way things used to be. And she really needed to let sleeping dogs lie.
"We didn't really hang out. I mean, he came over and played videogames with Sam. He's my … boyfriend?" The words feel foreign on her tongue. Since when has Sam Evans been her boyfriend? Roommate, yes. But Quinn has not had a boyfriend since the end of her senior year. She isn't afraid of commitment; she just isn't good at it. Her heart moves faster than her head, and while that might be a dangerous way to live, it's the only way that Quinn Fabray seems to know anymore. "I'm sorry. I don't remember your name."
"Tina. And I know Sam. We're in Biology together. Actually, he left something in class yesterday. Maybe you and Sam can hang with Mike and I later. It'll be fun." Quinn decides that she likes this Tina, and wonders how she could have been so clueless about Sam's life apart from her.