"What do you mean, Quil?" Seth demanded after a moment, cocking an eyebrow skyward. "How does this have anything to do with her?" The mere mention of his girlfriend sent pleasurable little shivers down his spine, but he had disregarded the feeling and paid rapt attention to his friend. Quil, seeming upset, stood and began pacing.

"Dude, this is serious shit," he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he walked.

"It doesn't seem that serious when you add in the word 'shit', Quil. Just tell me what imprinting is." Seth ordered. Quil looked to the ceiling as if to find the answer there and then his gaze lowered. His unsteady look did not bring peace to Seth's ever-fluttering mind.

"Imprinting is a pretty simple thing," Quil began, "And it's perfectly natural... if you're a wolf, that is." He paused to gather his thoughts. "You know why I'm so connected to Claire? It's because of imprinting, which, dumbed down, means finding your soul mate."

Seth was puzzled. A soul mate did not seem so appealing to him, especially when he was involved with another girl. And moreover, he didn't even like Kid. He did not want to be her soul mate, or anyone's soul mate, for that matter. He did not believe in such atrocities, no matter what the legends of his culture stated. He knew bull when he saw it, and he daren't think of it longer than needed. If he had the strength to withstand changing into a goddamn monster, he would not allow himself to fall victim to a 'soul mate'.

"That's a load of shit, if I ever saw one," he commented, smiling crookedly. Quil threw him an apprehensive glare.

"I've felt it, dude. It's like nothin' I've ever encountered. And you have felt it, too, haven't you?"

Seth shook his head. "I felt like I was going to fucking throw up, if that's what you're implying."

Quil laughed bitterly. "Yeah, right. You know you enjoyed the one second that wasn't making you up-chuck."

Seth was floored. He had to admit, for one brief moment, everything was significantly clearer in his mindset. All of it. Just for a second. The mere thought only ignited Seth's aggravation. His temper was reaching the breaking point.

"I'm not bulimic, Quil," he retorted, unsuccessfully, I might add. Quil rolled his eyes and sat back down next to Seth. "It's not like you can't resist it, Seth. I did. I am."

"But I know you're a pussy. You'll give in, and so will I, 'cause I can't control myself."

Quil sighed, exasperated. "The only reason you'll give in is if you keep thinkin' that it's the end of the world if you do. Just go along like you normally do, and you'll see where it takes ya."

"Save the motivational poster for a nerd who actually reads them, Quil." Seth snapped. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Quil shrugged nonchalantly. "Whatever you say, Seth."

Seth bit down on his tongue to stop the verbal lashing he was about to ensure Quil received, and attempted to lower his pulsating anger. He wasn't sure what instilled his sudden mood change, but it was apparently making him doubt himself. He didn't doubt himself. He only trusted himself. Everyone else were liars, just like Quil. That's just how he was, and that only attributed to his personality, giving others the impression that he was a cruel, rude, and overall sarcastic young man who did not know the world until he experienced it. But they were the liars.

"Spare me your dismissive attitude, Quil. I don't need that on my shoulders either."

Quil laughed, much more condescendingly than before. "So you've got a lot on your plate, eh? Tell me what those things are exactly, Seth. What? Don't give me that look. What's so wrong with your life other than the fact that you're a mythical beast? Huh, you have the most easy-going mom on the planet, you have a sister that completely avoids you and doesn't do anything to any of your belongings... You've got your own truck to go wherever you please, a simple job that pays minimum wage, and a scholarship waiting in the wings once you're out of high school. You've got a girlfriend who knows our legends and isn't that worried about 'em. Okay, yeah, you imprinted on the Swan chick, but what does that even have to do with anything? You can resist, can't ya? Or do you not believe in yourself enough? Pretty damn weak, if you ask me." His smile widened. "And, to my knowledge, the Swan chick isn't bad to look at either. Am I right?"

"I'm this close to knocking your head off your shoulders, Quil. This close." Seth threatened, instinctively flexing his fingers. Quil shrugged his broad shoulders, that goddamn smirk playing on his lips. "Cry me a fuckin' river, Seth. You don't have it bad."

"And you do?"

Quil shook his head. "Never said I did. Too quick to assume, eh?"

Seth breathed slowly through his nostrils, slamming an imaginative hand down on his writhing fury. His eyes flashed. "You are acting as if you know everything, Quil. Where'd the sudden intuition come from? Is there a 'Dummies' Guide' to it?" He bared his teeth. "But then again, I'm assuming very slowly that you own all of the copies.

"And I know you think that you're so high above me – like you've got the upper hand in this battle of wits. I'm not disputing that, but rather, I'm impressed. And partially flattered. Why, I haven't had a decent argument in such a long time! Perhaps I forgot when I went along with my substantially simple life. You know, the same one that you pretty much have, except, well, the girls in my life are much more attractive than your wee little Claire-y-poo!"

The familiar comfort of completely pissing someone off settled easily in the pit of Seth's stomach, and he regained his confidence due to it. "Olivia knows about her, right? That you imprinted on a two-year-old? Why, it's almost considered some degree of pedophilia, in essence. Get grabby when it's diapee time?"

He dodged the strong punch Quil threw and locked his hand around the man's wrist, pulling him down with equal strength. "I hope you wash your hands afterward, y'know, when you're running your hands through Olivia's hair. Or perhaps that's why she has such dark mahogany locks. Do you call it Valentine's Day chocolate?"

"Shut your fuckin' mouth, Seth!" Quil rumbled. "This is why I can't stand you."

Seth pouted his lips mockingly. "Such terrible words, Quil. But who's the bastard who stands being around me? Eh? You."

"I said shut your fuckin' mouth!" Quil repeated angrily, tugging on his wrist. His other hand collided with Seth's jaw, but he didn't feel it. He was far too enraptured in getting his revenge on Quil, who, suffice to say, wasn't his friend anymore. Why does that sound like I'm in fourth grade? Seth questioned himself comically, smiling devilishly at Quil, who looked fit to kill.

"Why do you contradict yourself, Quil?" he demanded. "You are so protective whenever I talk about that stupid toddler. It's ridiculous."

"It's instinct." Quil spat. "I can't help it."

"So you are a pussy!" Seth laughed. "I never woulda guessed!" Then, quieter, he continued, "But really, Quil, Old Buddy, Old Pal, why is it that you can't stand anyone, me especially, talking about her? Hmm? Is it because you value your soul mate more than you let on? I am severely hurt, Quil, that you would lie to me! Lies, deceit, deception! It's tearing me apart!"

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," Quil chanted, ripping his wrist away from Seth's grasp. "You are sick, Seth."

"I believe it's H1N1," Seth supplied, coughing mockingly into the crook of his elbow. "Got me all in a tizzy."

"And messed with any or all coherent thought you've ever had."

Seth rolled his eyes. "Call me crazy."

"Gladly," Quil roared, stomping across the room and out the front door.

Seth waited a few moments before chuckling childishly.

Hours later, Seth sat at the foot of his bed, back against the board. In one hand he held a small basketball, which he had been continually shooting hoops through the small, equally sized hoop on his door. One would say that Seth was conflicted, but he die before he admitted that he was regretful. He was aware, almost frighteningly so, of how he treated Quil, the only friend he had other than his girlfriend.

Yes, he was regretful.

What he had said to Quil was despicable, but Quil had been so asinine in his attempts to tell Seth of his seemingly normal life and agenda. Quil had deserved it, or in Seth's opinion he had. Although Seth had been friends with Quil for several years, he could not bring himself to call, meet up, or even text Quil a bemused apology, as he normally would when they had their manly hissy fits.

Was he too proud or too ignorant? Most likely an even mixture of both.

Which was, logically spoken, not a good combination. At all.