Quinn had learned a few things about the way that she responded to fear and stress while on the Aerie, and she'd started to catalogue what went where so she would know what was going on and what felt like what. After all, she still didn't have the firmest handle on what her emotions were at any given moment, didn't always know the words for them. It had been a strange life she'd lead up to that point, after all.

So it was with that more practiced eye than before that Quinn recognized the bouquet of unpleasant things she was feeling at the moment. Lethagic, twitchy, and suppressing shivers; the aftermath of panic. She reached out one of those slightly shaking hands as Tillie gushed over the data to her--she didn't get it, but at least Tillie looked excited--and rested it gently against the black hide of the monstrous alien, still staring at the almost hypnotic spreadsheets that Tillie bore. She took a deep breath in; then out.

One was all she got before Tillie jumped, and asked Quinn...well, if she needed anything. The girl in question looked up at the ceiling far above in thought. Did she need anything? Well, the short answer was yes. But did she need anything that Tillie could provide?

A few moments later, she started speaking, a bit hesitant, seeming almost shy. "[color=ffe63d]Well,[/color]" she scuffed her shoe into the ground, “[color=ffe63d]It's been a really hard week.[/color]" She seemed almost to shrink in front of Tillia as she asked, "[color=ffe63d]So do you think you could...[/color]" She swallowed, suddenly conscious of how ridiculous she must sound and look and yet unable to fully stop herself. 

"[color=ffe63d]...Could I have another hug, Tillie?[/color]"