[Keep it together, you jackass. He's not here to see you crack, a part of Quentin hisses. It still takes him a moment to get his composure vaguely settled before dropping his hands, as his wings shift to wrap better around him. He's never liked feeling exposed.]

...Thanks. This is- what I meant, when I said that there's layers. I can't talk about one without the other. I wish I could, but- [A small, jerky shrug as he lets out a shaky breath. His fingers curl against the couch cushion to settle his nerves.] Can't. It started there. Is why I even looked for people in similar boats. Ex-Stark employees. Abandoned, angry. Lonely. None of us felt like we had anything. Mysterio was something.

[Quentin lets out a huff that's not quite a laugh, looking away again as he scratches at his jaw.]

We wanted to be the next Iron Man. Funny, right? A bunch of engineers, all trying to imitate one and still failing.