[ quentin would bottle the sound of that little laugh if he could, smiling up at him in a way that his cheeks almost dimple. he takes the mug, sips at the scalding liquid and hums, pleased at the heat of it. he sets it on the bedside table, blinking at the handfuls of sugars and creams. ]

I've seen people putting this in their coffee. How do you take yours?

[ he sits at the edge of the bed, reaching to take koby's mug if only so he can nudge him with a thigh to sit down. ]

The color is nice. But overalls. I'll have to ask for those. Useful.

[ nevermind he gives a tug with his free hand yet again, this time reaching for one of the deep, back pockets, to goose him just slightly. he's impatient today. ]

Eat with me. Tell me about your coffee.