Chapter 83

The Compromise

a/n: I'll admit, this chapter feels like a little bit of a filler with not a lot of action but I'm ramping up to some more plot-heavy storylines and I thought that all of this dialogue was pretty essential to understanding where the story was going. That, and I've been on a writing binge lately, so I hope you enjoy. Thank you!

The engine on Kurt's Impala popped as he came to a stop beside the dumpsters in the school parking lot. He turned off the ignition, shoved his keys into his leather-sleeve raincoat and looked over at his boyfriend, who was sitting proper in the passenger seat.

"Can you just tell me what's going on?" asked Blaine, whose thick eyebrows were pulled together in concern.

Kurt had picked him up and spent the entire drive over intricately explaining his mother's past - her strange death concerning the Djinn and her entrapment in an alternate universe. Blaine's knowledge of his boyfriend's mother was vague. Kurt talked about his mother but never launched into great detail and Blaine never pushed him. He was suddenly explaining every intricacy and theory to Blaine in some sort of prelude to a confession that would explain why he had been acting so secretive.

Kurt sighed deeply and leaned back in his seat. "Because of the dreams I've been having lately, the only thing that makes sense to me is that when she died, her soul was left behind in the alternate world that the Djinn created for her, and that world has… gone wrong. I think she's suffering. And I have to do something to save her."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"I don't know how exactly, yet, but Quinn is going to help me and possibly Jesse St. James, too. I thought it was a matter for witchcraft."

"Okay…" Blaine nodded, looking away as he tried to organize his thoughts, "So, why don't you get help from Ms. Corcoran? She's a witch. And she has seniority. I mean, she could probably be the most helpful and she was mostly responsible for restoring Santana's soul…"

Kurt had averted his gaze, looking guiltily out of the car door window as his classmates passed them, walking into school, greeting each other.

"What?" asked Blaine when he didn't respond, "Why wouldn't she be able to help?"

"She would, she just… She won't."

Blaine stared imploringly at the boy. "Why not?"

"I asked and she's not going to help because she thinks it's too… volatile."

Blaine narrowed his eyes. "And other synonyms for dangerous? Kurt, why does she thinks it's dangerous? Didn't they basically do the same thing for Santana? And it worked."

"Yes, but it's a little more complicated this time."

"Why?" asked Blaine, sternly staring at his boyfriend.

Kurt ran his hands over his jeans and searched for an explanation that wouldn't sound so alarming. "Before my mother died… Before she left Lima, she wanted to make sure I would be safe without her. She had Shelby… split her soul. Just, take a piece of it out. A part of the piece that made her a slayer, and… give it to me. That's where, I think, my powers come from. Because… I can't be a slayer. It's just not possible. So instead of physical powers, I got psychic ones."

Blaine continued to squint at Kurt, just barely able to understand the situation. "I think… I mean, you mentioned this before, but…"

"I don't think she can ever truly be at rest… go to Heaven… unless the part of her soul that she gave to me is reunited with the rest of it."

Blaine frowned, staring out of the window in front of him for a few long seconds. "You want to get Quinn to remove part of your soul?"

Kurt shook his head. "Part of my mother's soul."

"But she gave it to you. Organ donors don't get to reclaim their organs. That's your soul."

"Blaine, you're not listening. My mother is suffering and she deserves to go to Heaven. I have to help her."

Blaine shook his head. "I thought you were an atheist."

"What?"

"I thought you didn't believe in Heaven."

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't… I don't know. A year ago, I wouldn't have believed in alternative realities and psychic powers. Two years ago, I would've thought that vampires and witches belonged only in cheesy young adult novels, but things change. Anything is possible."

"So isn't it possible that she doesn't need that one piece of her soul? Maybe if you free her from her universe, that's all she'll need to go to Heaven."

"Maybe, but there's no way we can be sure. I have to know that I've done everything I can possibly do to help her."

Blaine turned his head and frowned out of the window. "Ms. Corcoran must think it's dangerous for a reason, Kurt. What if you get hurt? What if you lose all of your soul, not just the part that your mother gave you?"

Kurt frowned at the steering wheel. "That's a risk I have to take."

Blaine whirled back to look at him, his eyes narrowed in a harsh glare. "It's not just you taking a risk, Kurt. Have you even thought about me or your dad, or Finn and Carole, if something happens to you? All of your friends? You're not the only one who will lose something. And if something does happen, I will hate myself if I hadn't said anything to stop you."

Kurt exhaled sharply. "You're going to try to stop me?"

"I'm going to try to reason with you," Blaine pleaded, "You're putting yourself in danger. You're putting Quinn and Jesse in danger! What if they get hurt trying to help you?"

Kurt shook his head. "Quinn says that if she thinks things are getting too dangerous, we stop."

"Oh, that's very reassuring," Blaine said sarcastically, "Coming from a girl who throws fireballs from her hands and whose previous best friend was a vampire. I wouldn't exactly say that I trust her guage of danger."

"She's smart, Blaine," said Kurt, defensive, "And she's thorough. It took a hell of a lot of convincing to get her to help-"

"Hang on," said Blaine, raising a hand, "Is that why you dropped out of the class president campaign? So that Rachel would win and her girlfriend would help you?"

Kurt remained silent, pursing his lips tightly together.

"Oh my God," Blaine breathed, "So that whole thing about it being too much for you-"

"I wasn't lying," Kurt said quickly, "With everything going on, it would be too much."

"But you decided not to tell me what was really going on."

"I'm telling you now!" Kurt said desperately.

Blaine frowned, looking halfway toward sympathetic as he stared at and sussed out his boyfriend. "I don't want to see something bad happen to you."

"You won't," Kurt assured him, "If you want… you can sit in with us while we figure it out. You can be there for every spell and every meeting. If you think it's getting too dangerous, just say when."

Blaine mulled it over, glancing out of the window at the now nearly-empty parking lot. "No-one else knows?"

"Just the four of us," said Kurt.

"You don't feel weird keeping this from the rest of the scoobies?"

"Of course I do, but I can't risk any of them trying to stop me. The only reason I told you was because… I love you. And I thought you deserved to know."

Blaine almost smiled, before the bell rang in the distance and his expression turned to confliction. "We're going to be late for class."

The boys got out of the car and walked into McKinley's entrance, Blaine a few steps ahead as Kurt wondered whether his boyfriend was going to support the Elizabeth Project or attempt to derail it. Truthfully, Kurt didn't know how dangerous this project would get and knew he wouldn't want to stop at the level of risk that the others were comfortable with. He knew he would risk almost everything to give his mother the fate she deserved.

As they walked into the school's main hallway, they immediately noticed the wide flatscreen monitor installed where the bulletin board used to be. It was playing a loop of pictures informing students about hockey team tryouts, reminders of rehearsals for the school play and a list of that weeks' cafeteria lunches.

"Can you believe this?!" Rachel called from down the hall.

She headed toward the boys, walking quickly in her glittery pumps, his small fists balled, as the few lingering students headed off to class. She approached the boys and waved a dramatic hand at the monitor.

"Paid for by Daddy Motta," she frowned sourly, "Luckily, I'm willing to put this whole mess behind us and propose a compromise."

Kurt blinked flatly at her. "Oh, joy."

"Yes, but Blaine, I need your help," she said sweetly, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"With what?" Blaine sighed, irritable.

"You'll see," Rachel smiled, "Come on, Sugar is waiting for us in Principal Figgins office."

"Wait, what?!" Blaine demanded as Rachel grabbed his hand and pulled him along with her down the hall.

Kurt furrowed his brow and glanced once more at the monitor. It was now showing a glittery picture announcing McKinley's homecoming dance, making a little tiara and disco ball dance under the date and time. A striking pain flashed through Kurt's mind like a lightning bolt as images of the homecoming dance and an overwhelming sense of danger came to light behind his eyelids. The vision passed and he stood upright, a dull pain lingering on his temples as he made sure no-one saw him. He walked briskly to his locker, certain he was late for class, as he took his cellphone out of his pocket and texted Buffy. Meanwhile, Rachel led Blaine into Principal Figgins office, still tightly holding onto his wrist.

"What's going on?" Blaine asked as they went inside.

Principal Figgins was waiting at his desk, impatiently tapping his pen against the surface, while Sugar sat opposite him, in her plaid jumpsuit and newsboy cap embellished in fake jewels, attempting to take a selfie with her phone.

"I'd like to ask the same question," said Figgins, unamused, as Rachel took a seat on the chair next to Sugar, smoothing down her pleated skirt as she sat, "It's not common for a student to schedule a meeting with the principal. Usually they just walk in, like you did yesterday on your little tirade."

Blaine took a seat on the thin lounge against the wall as Rachel smiled politely, smoothing down her hair.

"I prefer 'ardent testimony'," she said, "But don't worry, I'm going to be perfectly civilized today. I wanted to make a proposal regarding the standstill situation of the senior class presidency."

Sugar un-pursed her lips and lowered her phone, tearing herself away from her pursuit of the perfect selfie. "Standstill? Um, last time I checked, I am the undisputed winner."

"Yes, except that you are not a senior and you are not undisputed because I have disputed it," said Rachel, keeping a saccharine smile on her face.

"Did you call a meeting to demand a recount?" asked Blaine, "Why do I need to be here? Kurt dropped out so I really don't care who won."

Rachel raised her chin. "Principal Figgins, can you please give me permission to continue my proposal without interruption?"

Figgins sighed and leaned back in his leather swivel chair. "Make this is fast as possible, Ms. Berry."

Rachel glanced at Sugar and Blaine. "My initial intention was to alert the school board of Principal Figgins' incompetence and have him fired, forcing our new principal to prove his capabilities by enforcing the very basic and implied rule that only seniors can be senior class president."

Figgins gritted his teeth. "And your intention now?"

"Well, I realized that if I really wanted to be the model class president, my concentration shouldn't be on securing a position of power, but on improving my school," Rachel continued, laying an altruistic hand on her chest, "And I don't believe that just one person can accomplish what needs to be done to improve McKinley, not only for the seniors, but for our underclassmen who will be experiencing these changes, possibly for the next four years."

"Can you please cut to the chase, Ms. Berry?" asked Figgins.

Rachel sighed. "Fine. I propose that for the first time in McKinley history, the three of us share the school council's leadership role. We all have strengths we can bring to the table. The technology that Sugar's father can fund brings a lot to the quality of education at our school. While personally, I find it tacky, touch-screen monitors in place of bulletin boards can save the school a small fortune in printing. Meanwhile, Blaine and I can concentrate on an equally important initiative-"

"No," Blaine shook his head, "I'm not putting my time and energy into a Keep McKinley Classy campaign."

"That's not what I was going to say," said Rachel, "I was going to say… That we're all in high school together. We're all going through this awkward, scary stage in life at the same time and it creates tension. It creates bullies. And victims. But what it should be creating is comradery. We should all be looking out for each other. No student should have to leave the school because of emotional or physical torment. And after what happened with Rick and Piper… Everyone needs to be reminded that their school should be a safe place."

Figgins pursed his lips. "What are you suggesting?"

"A zero-tolerance bullying initiative. Like Dalton Academy," Rachel nodded encouragingly at Blaine.

"Ms. Berry, this a public high school," said Figgins, "We will have a much more difficult time enforcing those kinds of rules. We don't have the same power to expel as private schools like Dalton Academy do."

"I know. That's why I thought that a support group should be assembled."

"A support group?" asked Blaine, intrigued.

"Yes," Rachel said, almost excited, "A group of senior students whose duty it is to spread awareness of bullying whenever they see it. Students can talk to them about their problems when it feels too intimidating to go to a teacher. We can even assign a few freshman to each member, so our underclassmen have someone they can turn to for advice and guidance."

Blaine stuck his tongue into his cheek. "That's actually a good idea. That's a great idea. Where did you come up with it?"

"What does that mean?" asked Rachel, "Like I couldn't come up with it on my own?"

Blaine raised his hands in surrender. "Whatever. I think it's a nice idea, if we can pull it off."

"So you guys would be class president, too?" Sugar wrinkled her nose, "But I already chose 'swag' as this years' theme for the homecoming dance. You can't change it!"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "You can keep your terrible theme."

"Oh," said Sugar, and shrugged, "Well, okay. I guess that means less work for me."

"Principal Figgins?" Rachel asked encouragingly.

Figgins sighed. "Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine nodded. "I think I'd make a good co-president."

Figgins tapped his pen against the desk once more. "Technically, there has to be another school-wide vote."

"Oh, now you care about the rules," Rachel mumbled.

"But," Figgins interjected, "Ms. Motta can employ you both as her vice presidents. It's basically the same job with a different title and less honor."

Rachel gritted her teeth at the idea of being Sugar Motta's vice president, but she smiled politely and said, "Deal."

xxx

"Tony, the trouble is large! The sharks bit hard! We got to stop them now, and we need you!"

The other theater kids watched patiently from the side stage as Puck and Blaine acted out an early scene from West Side Story in the auditorium, making emphatic gestures as they read from the bulky scripts that Mr. Schuester had printed for them. The curtain swayed behind them, ripped to ribbons from last week's incident. The glee club planned to make an appeal to Sugar Motta and her father's bottomless wallet to have it replaced.

Kurt sat at one of the front scenes, between Buffy and Rachel, watching diligently. In the back of his mind, he recognized that he would be insanely jealous if it weren't for the fact that he had more important things to worry about. If it had just been a normal year and he went to a normal school in a normal town, he would have hated the fact that his boyfriend was playing the male lead in the school musicaland he wasn't. He would have hated that a jock like Puck got the part of Riff and he didn't. But Kurt wasn't jealous. If anything, he was grateful that he'd get to play a background Jet with barely any lines. He had been distracted when he auditioned and would surely be distracted onstage.

He recognized Blaine's disconnected expressions in an otherwise flawless performer and felt guilty for dropping such a huge bomb on him before rehearsals. He didn't even think about the fact that his boyfriend would have trouble concentrating on his lines. The two boys finished their scene just before Tony's first musical number and Mr. Schuester ordered them all to take five. Buffy turned to Kurt, her expression hardened.

"Can you remember anything specific?" she asked in a hushed tone as the theater kids started to talk amongst themselves.

Kurt shook his head. "Just the basics. Homecoming. Danger."

Buffy sighed, irritably. "Great. This town wants to make sure I never get to have fun."

"Speaking of homecoming," Rachel smiled, leaning closer to both of them, "I think we should get a limo."

"A limo? Aren't they expensive?" asked Quinn, who had approached the others with a script rolled up in her hand and Tina behind her, both of them taking a seat with the other scoobies.

"Not if we all chip in," said Rachel, "I think it could be fun."

"I never really cared about homecoming," said Tina, "But it is our last one. Maybe we should make a big deal out of it. What do you think, Buff?"

Buffy looked over, unconvincingly enthusiastic. "Yeah, maybe… If the world doesn't end."

"I had a vision," Kurt explained quietly.

"That the world would end at homecoming?" asked Quinn, "I mean, it probably will for Morgan if she doesn't win the crown, but I didn't think that would affect the rest of us."

"I don't know what's going to happen. I just saw… danger," said Kurt.

"Spiked punch danger or end of times danger?" asked Quinn.

"I don't know…" Kurt sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers, "Somewhere in between?"

"Either way, we're all going to be there," Rachel said encouragingly, "So, limo? Anybody?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. If there's going to be a big bad at homecoming, I'll probably lurk around in combat boots. I don't really see myself joining in on corsages and Adele remixes and… limos."

"Come on, Buffy," Rachel sighed, "It's our last homecoming. A couple weeks ago, we didn't even think you'd be back here to celebrate with us. What's wrong? You don't have a date?"

Kurt sat upright as Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Joe didn't ask you to homecoming yet?" he asked.

Buffy frowned. "To be fair, I haven't really given him a chance. I've been busy with other stuff."

"What stuff?" asked Tina, "Scooby stuff? Should the rest of us be helping?"

"No," Buffy said quickly, "Just, regular slayer stuff. Patrolling on would-be date nights and whatnot. I've never really had a lot of time for romance."

"Back to work," Mr. Schuester called as he walked back into the auditorium with a coffee in hand, "Blaine, warm up for Something's Coming."

xxx

Quinn's phone bleeped on the nightstand. She remained cross-legged on the bed, staring at Wiccan blogs on her laptop screen as she picked it up and answered without looking to see who it was.

"Hello?"

"Quinn." It was Kurt. "What are you doing?"

"Homework," Quinn said curtly, "Why are you calling me?"

"I wanted to tell you something."

"Something you couldn't text me?"

Quinn could practically feel Kurt roll his eyes before he sighed, "I told Blaine."

Quinn wrinkled her brow. "Huh?"

"I told him what we're trying to do with my mom's soul."

"What do you mean you told him, Kurt?" asked Quinn, glancing at the bedroom door, "You were the one who convinced me that we can't tell anyone. I haven't even told Rachel."

"I know, I know, but I decided to tell him, okay? He's not mad. I mean, he was, but he knows it's important to me. He knows he can't stop me. So he wants to help."

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut and put a hand to her temple. "He wants to help how?"

"He knows someone who goes to Dalton. A warlock."

Quinn snapped her eyes open. "Who?"

"Some guy named Sebastian."

Quinn's heart dropped. "Sebastian Smythe?"

"You know him?"

"Used to," Quinn mumbled, "I'm not sure getting him involved is such a great idea."

"What? Why not?"

"He's… kind of a bad influence. I knew him in elementary school-"

"Elementary school? Quinn, it's possible that you don't know him as well as you used to."

Quinn sighed. "If the time comes when we need someone helps, we can consider talking to him, okay?"

"I'm meeting him tonight."

Quinn blinked. "What do you mean? Where?"

"Blaine is taking me to this bar in Westerville called Scandals. Sebastian's gonna be there. I'm going to meet him and see if he can help us."

"Kurt, you're getting ahead of yourself. You don't want to bring Sebastian Smythe into your life unless you can absolutely help it."

"I think you're being dramatic, Quinn. You haven't seen Sebastian since elementary school, right? You're remembering a twelve-year-old, at best."

Quinn pouted. "I knew him in middle school, too."

"Oh, of course, because everyone remains exactly who they were in middle school."

Quinn just shook her head. "Do whatever you want, Kurt."

"Quinn-"

Quinn hung up the phone and tossed it onto the edge of the bed. She stared at the clock on her laptop and feared she had been a little theatrical. Maybe Kurt was right and Sebastian had changed since they were kids. Still, the thought of him resurfacing into her or her friends lives after all this time made her stomach turn. The time read 7:01 and like clockwork, Jesse's screen-name appeared on her Skype message board and he started to call. Quinn clicked the green answer button and Jesse's face appeared onscreen, with little more than a headboard and a brick wall painted white as his backdrop.

"Jesse," she sighed, more relieved to see him again than she thought she would be, "We might have an issue."

"Already?" he asked, knitting his dark eyebrows together, "Is it too late for me to back out of helping you?"

Quinn just shook her head at the boy's image. "You cut your hair."

"Your skills of deduction are comparable only to the great Sherlock Holmes."

"Kurt's planning on asking another warlock for help."

Jesse's cunning smirk faded. "Who?"

"Sebastian."

Jesse balked. "Sebastian Smythe?"

"Do we both know another Sebastian?"

"Stan. Bach. The lobster from The Little Mermaid."

"Yes, Jesse, we're reclaiming Kurt's mother's soul with the help of an animated sea creature."

Jesse glanced at something offscreen, looking consumed in anxiety. "That is an issue."

"Is it? I mean, my memories of Sebastian aren't exactly favorable, but they're just memories. I haven't seen him since middle school, have you?"

"No," Jesse frowned, "Still. I wouldn't trust him."

"Well, I would have said the same thing about you, but we're friends again, aren't we?"

"I am not like Sebastian," Jesse said defensively.

"You're not?" asked Quinn, unconvinced.

Jesse frowned like he was trying to mask something. "He was worse after you left. He was all about power."

"And you weren't?"

"I cared about control. There's a difference. Witchcraft is a balance of power and control. Sebastian never really shared that belief."

Quinn shrugged. "Maybe he's changed."

Jesse frowned. "Don't you remember what it was like, Quinn? He's the reason we stopped being friends."

"You can't blame him, Jesse. You chose to…" Quinn trailed off, not wanting to relive the past, "You got in too deep and made some bad choices. He was a bad influence, but you can't lay all the blame on him."

"He was a bad influence," Jesse nodded, "And don't you think he would just use this as an opportunity to have some more reckless fun. That's all he's about, you know. Fun. He could care less about helping people."

"Because the both of us were such saints," Quinn tilted her head sardonically.

Jesse frowned on-screen, shaking his head and lagging just a fraction of a second. "You stopped trusting me. But you were afraid of him. Not just afraid of his powers, but of what he was really capable of. Witchcraft or not."

xxx

Buffy tip-toed down a long hallway in the condo, holding a brown paper bag in both hands. She had poked her head in and out of a couple rooms - one being an unfurnished chef's kitchen that she hadn't seen before - until she found the hall that led toward the two main rooms. Santana had been staying there, having unearthed a couch from the basement. She turned into the doorway when Santana appeared in front of her. Buffy jumped back a little, breathless.

"Santana," she sighed.

The girl was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans that were a little too short for her. Clothes that Buffy had brought her.

"It's just me," said the slayer to the stone-faced vampire, "Here."

She handed her the brown paper bag and Santana peered inside, although she already knew what it was. She nodded gratefully but for once in her life felt too awkward to speak. She had been cooped up in her condo for a week now. Neither she nor Buffy wanted anyone to know she was back. Not yet. The vampire was still dealing with the onslaught of memories of when she was soulless and the trauma that followed.

Santana walked into the wide room that would have been a charming, spacious living room if there were anything in it besides an old couch and a cardboard box full of Virginia Andrews novels that Buffy took from her mother and claimed she would donate to charity. Buffy followed her inside as the vampire removed the plastic cup of butchers' blood from the bag, her stomach practically growling.

"How are you feeling?" Buffy asked quietly.

Santana cupped the blood with her back turned. "It hurts less," she said in a quiet voice that was barely hers.

"Good," Buffy nodded, balling her fists and preparing herself to keep speaking, "You know I haven't told any of the others. That you're back, I mean. And I'm not going to. I don't think they would understand, that you're better. Quinn might, but… I want to give you a chance, you know? I want to keep helping you get back to normal, it's just… things are different now. I'm a senior. I'm really working harder in school. I'm even thinking about college. And… I'm seeing someone."

Santana flinched and turned around to face Buffy, though she didn't say anything. Just held a stern expression for a moment too long before she turned back around and took a seat on the couch, still holding her cup of blood, like she was too tired to stand. Too tired to listen.

"His name is Joe," Buffy continued, "He's nice. And I need… someone I can count on."

Santana turned her head in the other direction. Buffy took that as a cue to stop talking.

xxx

"This isn't as… scandalous as I'd imagined."

Kurt smirked at his boyfriend as they both took in the environment of the elusive Scandals night-club. It was possibly the saddest gay bar Kurt could ever have imagined, looking more like a dive bar than a hook-up hotspot.

"Where's Sebastian?" Kurt asked over a thumping Donna Summer song.

Blaine quickly scoped out the room before locking eyes with someone at the bar. "There," he smiled, and pointed to a tall, slender boy with high-class posture and a popped collar on his layered polo shirt. He was smiling back at them, his pale eyes twinkling.

"That's your friend?"asked Kurt, taken aback by how traditionally good-looking he was.

"Well, we weren't close, but we did bond over demonology," Blaine smiled, enthusiastic as he waved at Sebastian and led Kurt over to him.

"Well, hello," Sebastian smiled, "I'm so glad you guys could make it. Now everything is right as Blaine."

He lifted his drink - something very blue - and took a large swig.

"Sebastian, this is my boyfriend, Kurt," Blaine introduced him, laying a hand on Kurt's back.

Sebastian raised his eyebrow a little. "Oh, so you're the one dabbling in witchcraft?"

Kurt glanced around to make sure no-one was eavesdropping, and Sebastian just laughed and waved him off.

"You don't have to worry about the people in here," he said, "This place is full of freaks."

Kurt cleared his throat, still feeling uncomfortable. "I'm not dabbling. I just… need help. It's kind of a sensitive project, so there's not a large margin for error."

Sebastian smirk. "Good. I work best when the stakes are high."

Kurt frowned. "Yeah, well, it's kind of sophisticated."

Sebastian laughed again. "And I'm not sophisticated?"

"I just mean… I already have friends helping me with it who just barely have experience with this kind of thing."

"Warlocks."

"One warlock. And one witch."

Sebastian smirked knowingly. "You wouldn't be talking about Jesse St. James and Lucy Fabray by any chance?"

Kurt paused. "She goes by Quinn."

Sebastian threw his head back and laughed harder. "Of course she does," he said, practically wiping a tear from his eye, "You know what? I'd be glad to help you, Fancy."