"I'm Quinn, and I'm fine."
Alice smiled her eyes narrowing. Liar. 'Hello Quinn.'
Some people don't like to reveal their pain, for so many reasons. They didn't want to appear weak, or did't want to burden others. And that's their right, Alice tried to remind herself. It's funny how small pain is eloquent. A paper cut will be complained about long and loud, but real pain is harder to express, yet requires fewer words.
If I were to pat him on the back I'm sure he'd be more expressive. Alice thought, a little spiteful in her exasperation, she'd already had a small taste of that pain felt like. For a moment she considered being courteous, respecting his right to privacy. Her power felt like a headstrong dog on a leash, tugging, whining, trying to get at what it desired, and she honestly tried thinking of a scenario in her head where she walked away.
Then she turned and leant against the wall next to him, crossing her arms over her chest. Proximity was heady enough without adding skin-contact to the equation; she kept her hands tucked away. Looking back towards her table where Riley was talking to Jermemiah and the other girl, rather then at Quinn, she said in a low voice, 'Funny, you Americans must have a different definition of 'fine'. I didn't think it tended to involve your level of pain.' Only then did she glance at him, eyebrows raised, to see his reaction.