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After the Shindig
Quatre's lying on the sofa in his apartment, socked feet resting up on one of the arm rests as he reads a book. He's vaguely waiting for his boyfriend (he hasn't changed out of what he is wearing for the party, though he's pulled his sleeves back down), but it's the type of book -- and he has the type of patience -- that he can probably wait near-infinitely (for sums of the infinite under 12 hours).
Hopefully, though, he won't have to.
Hopefully, though, he won't have to.