Then we find ourselves in a mutual accord. You're welcome any time, of course.

[ He's intolerable, but not for want of trying. Mostly it's little things: he sleeps with the lights on, because when they're off - and lacking his omniscience - it genuinely feels like there's nothing there when he wakes up in the dark.

He pulls himself away from the edge, moving over to the chairs so that he can sit and laboriously slither his feet out of the Starfleet issue footwear. ]

I made hot cocoa. Well--it was hot. [ A gentle distraction more than anything. The subject was still there, but indelicate prodding - he'd discovered - tended to get him nowhere. Besides, not dwelling on the topic of inviting Janeway to stay with him was at least intended to make it seem like it was no big deal, when in fact it was perhaps a bigger deal than almost anything else she'd done for him so far. When Q felt like rubbing someone's nose in it, he didn't hesitate--but this was bigger than that, it meant something; genuinely meant something to him, and sobriety was his answer. It was unsubtle, as much as he might have thought otherwise. ]