[Deep down, Steven knows exactly what Quentin meant when he asked. It just didn't stop his thoughts from derailing. He can't shake the image of a young Marc huddled up in his room, their mother banging furiously on the door. A memory that was never supposed to be shared between them, because 'that was the whole point of Steven'.

When Quentin's hand goes for his own, he doesn't shake it off. And he hears all of what's being said to him, but it somehow doesn't register as anything worthwhile. Who cares if he's different from Marc? Who cares if he lives life his own way? That was the whole point of him too.]

It is all me, but... But the only reason I exist is because Marc went through something horrible, and... [He swallows thickly, raising his free hand to his eyes. They're starting to burn. Some strained mix between a chuckle and a sob escapes him.] ... Hell if I know what happened at Tower Bridge. I don't remember anything like it. Chances are, I wasn't in town for it, but that won't stop me from thinking I've been living in London for years already. You know where... where he first got the accent? Off some movie he loved when he was just a lad. That just makes me the world's biggest joke, don't it?