Vulnerable (Kit and open)

A familiar giggle pulled Q’s attention away from the witch’s backside as he was met with a pitying expression from his best mate. Kit did not look outwardly as though he was pitying Quentin, but it was implied. Or inferred. Possibly both. Kit tossed a staff at him and Q caught it with his free hand. “Obviously the only reason,” he replied, though he hadn’t noticed a ring, Quentin wasn’t sure if that was because he’d not looked or because Kit was sparing his feelings. Nah, couldn’t have been the latter. He took another swig of water before setting the bottle on the floor at the edge of the room, kicking his towel alongside it. He spun the staff in his hands a few times as he moved back into the center of the mat where Kit stood readied. A confession? Q grinned, wondering what his friend had been hiding from him. “She’s not really engaged, you made up the bit about the ring,” he offered with a grin before lunging forward and bringing the staff down in a swift motion toward Kit’s head.

His attack was block, but that had been expected and even the force with which Kit had pushed him backwards wasn’t enough throw off his balance. He widened his stance to keep himself upright before swiftly jumping into the air to avoid Kit’s staff that was sweep the floor right where he had been standing not even a second before. Q landed gracefully on the opposite side of the staff, his own coming down in an arch to swoop Kit’s weapon further out of the way and give him time to plant his feet firmly on the mat beneath him. “Spill,” he ushered, raising his staff back in a continued motion ready to strike again.

Kit had a supernatural advantage over him, and Q knew that but it didn’t sting any less when Kit’s staff came crashing into his own at a force that blew the wizard back, sliding on his arse across the training room floor. He took only a millisecond to regain himself before springing to his feet, both hands firmly gripping his staff and finding his footing. He was panting as he looked at his mate, a sly grin appearing on his chiseled features. “Zhang?” He frowned in an expression of contemplation; eyebrows raised. “Want me to dust him?” he asked, completely joking as he lunged forward, the butt of his staff aimed directly for Kit’s chest.

He wanted to laugh at Kit’s shocked and horrified expression, but it persisted a moment too long and instantly took the fun out of it for Q. Kit attempted to clarify – something which was not necessary in the slightest – as he tried to catch his breath but Quentin simply stood at the ready and gestured for him to suck it up. “You mean in the ‘you ran out of tissues and had to move on to socks’ sort of thinking about him. Yea, I caught on to that a while ago.” He chuckled. “I’m not as slow as my reflexes make me appear.” Kit might have been though, if he thought he was laying out some huge revelation for his best mate. It was true that Q could generally read Kit better than most anyone else, his siblings often included, but the fact that the quiet man in front of him was mildly obsessed with Dumbledore’s newest (only?) vampire recruit had not slipped past the handsome blond.

Kit came at him full force, well, full force for a regular wizard but probably only quarter force for a half-vampire. Either way, it required Quentin’s concentration in order to block blow after blow, causing their conversation to meander as Q grunted and swinging his staff left and right. “You bore a hole in the man’s head at the last meeting,” Q answered finally, shifting from defensive to offense as he lunged at Kit. “The real question is –” Q swung his staff around, heading straight for the dark haired man’s head, “when are you going to stop being such a pussy and tell him?”

It was most likely the conversation that had caused Quentin to overtake his best mate, seeing as how the half-vampire had supernatural speed and strength that far outweighed anything Q’s training could develop, but Q still grinned like a jackass at the sight of his gob-smacked friend on the floor. Q repositioned his staff over Kit, as if any wrong answer might elicit another sturdy beatdown, but Kit’s response, though wholly incorrect, only evoked a chuckle. “I was thinking never.” Pussy. His best friend was a sodding coward and boy did that make Quentin’s laughter increase. He himself had never struggled to confess his attraction for a woman, and generally found it quite rewarding more often than not. Kit could learn a thing or two from him.

Q pulled back his staff and extended his free hand to help Kit from the floor. “Sounds like a smashing plan. Die a virgin. Brilliant.” That wasn’t exactly the case, but in comparison to Quentin Kowalski, Kit might as well have been a virgin. He gave a crooked smile as he pulled his friend to his feet, already looking around for where he’d left his water.