Quinn felt like he was going to vomit. Except that he probably wouldn't. Hopefully. If he did that would be damn embarrassing. He'd seen 'Flynn's' picture on Spectre's LJ and it looked so much like Mal. Like his Mal. And after speaking to Deirdre, and hearing that 'Flynn' said he was from Whitehead, which was where Quinn was from...it was far too much evidence to be a coincidence. Flynn had to be Mal. So Quinn took himself to Flynn's house, shaking all the while, and he raised a hand to knock on the door. Once he'd accomplished that, he mentally willed himself not to vomit or run away. At least not until he knew if it really was Mal or not. God, if it wasn't he was going to feel like a right knob.

Date: 2007-11-18 11:21 am (UTC)From: [identity profile] in-spectre-mors.livejournal.com
"Coming right up," Spectre said. He gave Quinn a companionable pat on the shoulder, just to show the young man that he didn't begrudge his unexpected presence here at all. The angel smiled at them both, then headed into the kitchen to make the tea. Hopefully, a few moments alone would do the two men a lot of good. Of course, Spectre was willing to give them as long as they needed, especially since Flynn wasn't going to be here much longer.

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