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The water was received with a quiet word of gratitude that wouldn't get in the way of Quenton's explanation, Colin leaving off rubbing at his legs in favor of stretching his arms out. A cousin, hm? Family that he didn't know about - would likely never have known about - but then so many of them had lives outside of being senshi that were wholly unknown and should probably remain as such for very good reasons.

Colin smiled a bit at the part of about tormenting, "I've got a cousin that lives to torment me, I feel your pain. Seems your got something good out of all her instruction?" It was quite interesting to learn little things about the artist and how he came into his craft; the reciprocal interest wasn't unexpected. Indeed it was utterly normal...the thought that Quenton put into it and the effect serious dance would have had on his schooling however, was not. Welcomed, but unusual from most whom showed interest in how he came to be a dancer by profession.

"Well, Mom says I was never still as a little kid and that I never paid attention if anything music-based was going on. Basically I ended up enrolled in ballet in kindergarten and I fell in love..we tried gymnastics but I just didn't click with it the same way. I've taken lessons in jazz, tap, hip-hop, contemporary and even belly-dancing since then." Pausing to crack open the bottled water, Colin shifted his position a bit, "It was hard in school...Mom had me in commercials and stuff too, so the older I got, the harder it was trying to balance it all. Having tutors helped a lot."

So did having a 'pretty face' and being charming and earnest...he'd weaseled his way out of failed grades and attendance rules many a time over the years. There hadn't really been trouble until he'd agreed to doing that stupid ******** musical - which was not something he was going to mention to someone he wasn't dating seriously. It just wasn't relevant otherwise.

"Short answer is that I've been dancing practically my whole life and it's the only thing I'm really good at."

Okay, clearly he had said something that troubled Quenton - or just pissed him off. Colin wasn't certain but from the uncomfortable and direct look being leveled his way, he got at least that. When the scarred blond opened his mouth finally, sense was made. Unfortunately he wasn't really in a good state of mind to accept the rebuke in the manner it was (hopefully) offered.

"I suppose so." Being looked at so directly, as though he were being not only weighed and considered but judged as well, was too much; he looked away, fiddling with the water he'd been given instead. Sage as his observations and advice might have been, Colin could only chew the inside of his cheek while thinking that maybe it was better if people only ever knew him as Colin-the-danseur. But that was defeatist thinking and he knew better than to indulge it for long, no matter how poorly he was feeling.

"I know you're right, sorry." With a hand gesture that seemed to encompass a whole world of external things, issues, Colin looked back up. "Sometimes I forget how to not behave like a teen-aged idiot. I'm really lucky, I get to do what I love. But yeah, it's...difficult. It'd be a lot easier to give up either being a senshi or a dancer...or trying to have a relationship." Tripping over the last, he attempted to cover the lump in his throat by uncapping the water and taking a drink. "Can get hard to explain new wounds or scars." Or it would, if he'd ever really had to explain them.

He just wasn't smart enough to know when to give up. Not even when reality was flashing warning in his face. "You're still doing art and dealing with this war too, so you've some idea as well." Colin glanced at the piece Quenton had been working on, wondering at how it would be changed, transformed, by the blond's hands into something more than the sum of it's components.

Despite his generally affable and gregarious nature, the number of people in Colin's life that were trusted or would care enough for him to pour his serious troubles to was sadly quite small. Whatever the reason or reasons behind it the end effect had him offering Quenton the sort of sheepish smile one might give if the person expected to be told they were being overly dramatic about things but still hoping that the person they're currently speaking with will surprise them.

Touched by the blond's acceptance and care, Colin gave his friend's words consideration as merited. It wasn't quite that his identity as Aegir were hidden, more that it had long since ceased to be a point of discussion - even before his lover's penchant for leave-taking without notice started. Even so, Quenton's words made much sense (he was fast learning that they often did) - his friend was smart as hell and not only in the 'book' sense.

Which was why his eyebrows went up when mention was made of canoodling with the enemy brass. It ran to the surprising end of things, though Colin supposed that when it came down to affairs of heart, being intelligent really didn't offer one much in the way of extra protection. "As far as I know, his only ties to the powered world are with me." 'But then again, how much do you really know anymore? He is estranged and distant, a changed man and slow to smile or laugh.' "I mean, if he had joined, I probably wouldn't be alive right now...or I'd be someone else, working for the Negaverse."

And likely not having his heart broken, but who could tell but that alternative futures might have brought more of the same, or worse?

Quenton had offered advice and safe harbor without prying, he could do the same. "If you ever want someone to talk to that won't freak out 'cause of the Negaverse thing, I don't judge. I mean, not all of them are purely evil homicidal maniacs." Okay, that maybe didn't come out so well. Man, he was bad at being comforting when he wasn't just bowling people over with attack-hugs and physical affection. "Wow, I'm sorry. I've completely lost my ability to not sound like an a** right now."

The glamour that helped to protect them was something that he usually found extremely interesting but he couldn't quite dredge up more than a cursory thought about it, how strange magic could be...and the way it might affect how people in their lives might have seen them. Still, it made sense. Most of what Quenton said made sense and the bit that didn't initially cleared up when Colin's brain caught up. He wasn't stupid, but he certainly wasn't on par with the Q-man.

With a shake of his head, Colin got to his feet. "No, I mean....sure that's probably part of it, but I really do mean it. If you ever wanna talk about anything, I'm here for you. Kind of a mess right now, but uh, yeah." People were easy to distract with offers to listen - so often people tended to just wait for their 'turn' to talk about things, missing the meaning behind whatever the other party had been saying.

Bischofite. He'd never had any contact with him and could only take the things he was being told as fact. It was pretty horrific that he'd died in Quenton's arms though - that was a good deal worse than just being...tossed aside? by one's lover. It kind of made him feel like a s**t-heel, though he knew that everyone dealt with things differently. 'Jesus, and he's just...going on like nothing doing. How long ago did it happen? He's incredible.'

"Sure. I'm ready if you are." Watching Quenton work again would be wonderfully distracting, so he brightened a bit as he stepped out of his shorts, back onto the platform and back into position. Emotion was emotion but when it came to work he could push it down and do what had to be done...in this case that meant holding the damned pose while Quenton immortalized him in art. Or something like that.

He knew nothing of Quenton's thoughts or what inner turmoil might be behind his eyeis, but what Colin did know was that as far as he was concerned, Q was a friend. And that meant he should try to be less of a self-centered a** and more empathetic to the needs of his friend. Hard to remember now, harder yet in the not-so-distant future, but he would try. No matter how much the artist might put off 'go away' vibes or be too ******** smart for his own good.

God only knew why Colin liked him so much. Perhaps it had been those first moments, bonding over weird costumes and then later being effectively 'roofied' by Thraen's goddamned plants? Or perhaps it was just within the blond's nature to be caring and practically thrust himself onto another person.

With body already heavier than when they started, it took more out of the danseur to hold the pose - but hold it he would. Pain was a constant friend and physical was much easier to take than emotional or mental. Besides, after a bit he got lost in meditation and didn't feel the growing aches of his body in any meaningful way, it was simply background noise - as was the music and the sound of Quenton working.

Even the dissonance between cellphone chime and music didn't immediately bring him out of his near-trance state. Quenton's voice, however, did and so he slowly set his limbs to right with low groans and some wobbling. "Like I'm going to collapse onto the floor if I try letting go of this pole." Which, to be perfectly honest, he felt was the most likely scenario at the moment. His calves and thighs were in a near-constant state of quivering and his lower back burned, but he was smiling.

"Next time I'm just going to sprawl across this damn thing with a dozen pillows." Colin tried moving off the podium but felt his knees going and clutched at the pole again, laughing as he got his legs to behave and hold his weight. It took a bit of doing and his brow furrowed with concentration, but Colin managed to get down before his legs returned to pretending he was a newly minted colt and folded under him. "And here I was mostly kidding about needing the pole..."

Whoops!

Had he not been both fighting the urge to continue laughing like an idiot and his misbehaving muscles, Colin would have found Quenton's reaction touching as well as amusing. He went into total "Doctor Q" mode (a term that popped up right then) and spoke to him as though he'd never overwrought his body and ended up sitting on the floor rubbing at his own legs (or having someone else do it).

Still, it was so goddamned nice having someone fuss over him that the blond just let Quenton do as he wished, compliant and docile and basking in the attention. Colin sipped at his water, expression one of an odd contentment even as he idly reached down to knead lightly at the protesting muscles of his legs with his free hand, letting up only long enough to make use of the cushions and drape.

"Mmhmm, happens pretty often in the newer dancers, less with those of us that live it." But he'd certainly had it happen more than once. He was grinning at Quenton now, eyes bright until he saw his friend (you have no choice Q) change expression to something sharper. "No need for sorry...it's nice. Besides, I'm the same way when I dance, so..it's no big deal." Colin leaned back and stretched his legs out, flexing his feet slowly and wondering at his own stupidity. He knew better, he did...he just had a hard time caring. Besides, it was more fun this way. "Usually only happens after a really long session near opening night, or when we do more than two shows. I really do know better, so it's my own damn fault. But really, thanks for taking care of me."

From his vantage point on the floor he got a whole different angle on the sculpture Quenton had made from him posing - it was good. Very interesting to see the places where his hands had smoothed and shaped the lumps of clay into a person. "It's good. Maybe I'm biased, but it's good." Did his legs really look like that? They must, he was just used to it; seeing the shapes in clay made it very interesting. Colin glanced over at his friend, massaging and gently hitting the locked muscles so they'd behave sooner rather than later.

"You know, you'd be welcome at the studio, if you ever wanted to sketch. Dunno if you do paper sketching...or to take some snapshots. We're pretty friendly as a group." Not that he wouldn't come back here if the blond wanted him to pose again, but it might be of interest to see them all in motion? He could probably get up, but figured to wait a little bit longer...just to be sure.

"Yeah, I get that." Colin made a rude sound at the way time was such a precious commodity, especially with the senshi side of things, but shifted some to give Quenton room to sit if he wanted to. "I spend most of my time dancing or playing magic dress up. Kinda hard to do anything else without really working for it anymore." Which was why he'd fought so hard to spend time with his fella...too bad it hadn't worked. Jackass.

"Pretty sure they wouldn't ask for money. I mean, we're all gonna be doing it anyway. September gets really pissy if we're all not going by eight. September's our ballet master, er..instructor basically. Helps us work on refining motion and technique." He thought about it a moment, shifting again so he could haul his right leg up and poke at the muscles. "We're all vain, so if you gave the sketches you did to whomever, they'd definitely be super excited. That'd be plenty, right there." Dancers were no different than most people in that regard, perhaps even more interested with having imagery of themselves. They did, after all, spend their days staring at themselves in a mirror!

This was going to be a grand idea - Quenton would get live models for the cost of a sketch and vain dancers would get sketches of themselves! Win-win situation. "Come by, absolutely. Gotta introduce you to Missus Cox, she's reception, and let her know you're good to come up anytime. She knows everybody and if I say you're with me it'll be no problem." Because she liked him, he didn't make trouble and was always respectful and helpful (along with being there so frequently she often joked that he never left). "Put you up near the piano or by the door in a chair, it'd be totally fine."

"Schedule's..well, the DCBC side is open from seven to seven, Monday through Saturday...but the main session with the instructor doesn't start until promptly at eight. Sundays it's by appointment only if at all. Theater side's different, 'cause it's all shows and special functions and stuff like that." Colin's muscles were feeling less like recalcitrant jello and more normal and he stretched his legs out and wiggled his feet. Getting up wouldn't be a problem, the deal was...did he want to get up? No, but he probably should. Quenton was no doubt tired too, would probably want to head home or wherever, get some rest.

But he stayed a liiiiittle longer; they were talking, after all!