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Unknowing that outside the main practice room sat a friend with fire in his eyes and something to say, Colin danced through the final bits of what was essentially just a really long warm-up, September off to one side watching while a guest instructor took small groups of dancers through pair exercises.

When it was over, he lingered and chatted a bit with some of his fellows while pulling a pair of ridiculously hideous fuzzy pants on. He'd change into his street clothes after getting a quick shower, but for the moment it was just easier to wear the godawful rainbow-tiger striped pants over his dance tights.

Stepping out of the practice room in the company of a fairly steady stream of other dancers, Colin caught a familiar face. A rather sour looking face, but familiar just the same; he smiled and went over to greet his friend. "Q-man, hi! Have you been here long?"

I don't see his supplies and he wouldn't be so unprepared if he were here to draw. Clearly he's here for another reason...but what? And why does he look like he might spit fire? "Is something the matter?"

Quenton's tone brooked no argument and made Colin's thoughts slide further into supposition that his friend was there on very important business, senshi stuff perhaps, so he didn't argue, he just nodded and opened his mouth to agree. Before he could give voice to anything, he felt the heaviness of Quenton's hand around his wrist; dry and tight enough for discomfort.

"Que--?" Colin found himself being dragged away from his coworkers to a location he only figured as they made way to the rooftop. What in the name of god is going on?? He wanted to pull back, to force them to a stop and demand what was going on, but he wasn't one for making scenes either - not unless it were on stage and part of his work.

Reaching the rooftop, Quenton released his hold and shut the door; just as Colin opened his mouth to demand answers, his friend pinned him in place with a look that shut him right on up. He was at a loss, the question was strange and the whole situation made very little sense to him. Why would Quenton be asking him something like that? After having hauled him through his workspace like an errant child?

"Hold up, what the hell's really going on? I can't believe you'd drag me up here like that just to ask me about friendship."

There was a deeper reason than just wanting an answer. He knew it. Quenton was too smart - and too no-nonsense - for there not to be. How do I define friendship? What kind of question is that? Is he secretly a fan of My Little Pony? That would be odd...

Ouch. Quenton's words were as sharp as surgical blade and rough as an S.O.S. pad, grating over him. He'd never experienced this side of Quenton and was not only shocked by having such vitriol laid upon him, but also hurt because to him it seemed to stem from nowhere. A sudden squall on the already tempestuous ocean of his life.

"I don't--" It was like being in grade school again, being dressed down by the teacher...or perhaps more accurately, like having September's full wrath coming down upon your head for something you didn't know you'd done and that wasn't being explained. Years of dealing with this sort of abuse gave him the ability try and focus on the words, perhaps figure out just what slight had earned him such a torrent of invective - but it still didn't make sense.

"Because I care and want to be there to support them whenever and wherever I'm needed, to the best of my ability." White knuckles, never a good sign. Colin crossed his arms loosely over his chest, cocking his head towards Quenton. "A friend is there in good times and bad...but it's more than that. You know it's nothing that simple, Quenton. There are..layers, I guess." Like he wouldn't have discussed senshi business with say, Jessalyn, though she was a friend. Colin was not enjoying being made to give a definition for something as nuanced as friendship, but it didn't seem that the blond would be content with anything but.

"Why are you asking?"

Against the Negaverse and being verbally attacked, Colin would have put his hands to his hips or something overtly aggressive. As it were, he was at least not clenched tight and tense, and though he'd closed off some, the danseur was still listening, still willing to listen.

Slowly, he was coming to understand just what it was that Quenton was getting at, but pieces were still missing...parts didn't fit. "Of course it's not just one way." But was it? He often didn't rely on others for support or even comfort until he was at the breaking point. It wasn't smart, certainly, and likely not healthy either...but it was how things worked out. "It's not supposed to be, but I'll admit that I don't get that close with some of my friends. Can't talk senshi business with civilians, things like that." Mostly.

Just...not at all with the aftermath of his break-up. Which was why he was dealing with things in an admittedly stupid manner and taking risks he should not. Was that what this was about? But Quenton wouldn't have known...except...maybe? Had Hver done as she said and told him? Is that why you're doing this?

"Is a list necessary, Quenton?" Lifting his head to the sunlight, Colin sighed and dropped his arms, fitting his hands into his pockets and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, "I think I might know where you're going with this." Although he didn't often come across as such, Colin wasn't stupid; connections in information could be parsed quickly enough if he put effort into it. The danseur looked back down at the sharp face of his friend, the hard gaze and angry set of his brows.

"You, for one. Mont Blonc, Methone, Camlann, Hvergelmir. Ash and Faust. Ganymede. Castor." But who among them deserves to hear someone moon about an ended relationship? The same thoughts as always rattled around in his head, so instead he focused on others he considered friends - there were quite a few outside powered folk, but very few of those he would have felt close enough to bare his heart to.

So sharp and aggressive. Why is he raking me over the coals? How does this help anything, Quenton? Unless you're trying to be a d**k.

Colin had a whole line of things to deliver in an annoyed tone, but they never found a voice. He just looked at his friend with the expression of one uncertain how they got where they stood, or of how to find an answer that would make the flogging stop.

"There are layers to friendship, do you ask me for close friends? Or work friends? Powered friends? I'll go with a close friend that's powered and knows my civilian identity. In which case," Colin had stopped rocking but his hands were now moving with nervous energy, twitching against fabric when not held still at short stretches. "In that case, I'd say the friendship goes both ways. Support and sharing when needed, emotional, physical, emotional, or magical in good times and bad, in and out of uniform. A care for the other person's well-being, even when not 'needed'."

He was uncomfortable, a child at recital unable to please. It set a low twist in his guts and made him very aware of everything around him, from Quenton's firey gaze to the slight breeze moving his hair, to the feel of the roof under his shoes, the rasp of fabric under his fingertips as he twitched them. That's the best I can offer you, I'm not as good with words as you are. I can't imagine anything I say right now will please you, appease your agenda.

"No." He answered honestly, "I only just met Hvergelmir, though I feel closer to her than some. I haven't spoken with Ganymede on a personal level in some time, and Castor is....a friend but I wouldn't want to trouble him with my problems." And Faust would just batter him, verbally, to 'man up' if he'd tried being emotionally vulnerable with him.

Predators and prey? Ah, you're way too clever for me, my friend. This is definitely about my patrolling like I do. But what of it? Can I expect you to comfort me over a break-up when you lost your lover? How much of an a** would I be then? Will you come stay with me at night, so I can sleep? I don't think so.

"It's caught, it dies." Just as he could be, would be, if he continued going the way he was. Colin knew this, he really did. Hver had expressed concerns over it and now Quenton was as well - in a much less kind manner and with all the tenderness of a hammer through a brick wall. "Just as I could be."

"Oh, and Van." How could he have forgotten his sister from another mister? Probably because of how uncomfortable Quenton was making him, the way the blond seemed to be taking a surgical blade and cutting away at him; a debridement most uncomfortable because he could see the point, he understood he'd been negligent as a friend by his own definition.

Colin flinched at the flood of damning words set at him sharp and precise, each one keen to hurt, finding it's target in the blond danseur's rounded shoulders and twitching fingers. All he could do was stand under the onslaught, meeting Quenton's gaze as best he could. - it wouldn't to to fling "but you don't understand!" because his friend did understand, likely better even than he himself did, and because saying something so insipid was stupid and juvenile.

The danseur might have been making life choices that were stupid and juvenile, but in general he was that the sort to fall under either of those labels.

"You are my friend, Quenton." He straightened up a bit, the conviction in his heart given him steel behind the statement, "I didn't call you because you'd had a bigger loss of your own. I didn't want to be a bother...didn't realize I'd ended up being a bad friend." Had he called his friends? Sometimes, but Quenton was correct, it wasn't near enough.

Worse than that, he'd hurt Quenton - it was clear as the light of day; Quenton was snarling, in pain and well within his right to berate Colin. "I'm sorry. I...I have a problem asking for help, being a bother." Methone and Lorne hadn't been told because they relied on him to be a rock, to be strong, and he hadn't wanted to disabuse them of that notion - but really he should have given them view of that side of himself too.

Colin shook his head, flinching again at being called a coward. "You don't need to do all that." The idea that the blond would do that just to help him was incredible - and it really showed how much Quenton cared about him. "I eat, I take showers. My biggest problem is sleep." And depression, but they both knew that - and if he ate less than he used to, he was still doing okay. Wasn't he?