That sulking might be mistaken for apathy by some, but not by Kyle. Oh no, he's far too used to that exact tone.

Kyle stares at Quentin, trying desperately to work through the bald facts he himself has laid out. He's a bright man, but emotions are much more slippery than facts.

It's funny to watch, though. Kyle's considerable brows draw together, his lips part just a bit before closing again, his forehead smooths, and then the process repeats.

"I think you're cute," he finally admits. "The fact that I can talk to you and you actually understand what I'm saying sure doesn't hurt, either." He gestures at the flowers all around them, a sweeping and somehow helpless flail of his arms. "And the whole... wanting to throttle you thing, which okay, fine, Magic Garden, you win, my toxic behaviour is sublimating sexual attraction into bickering. Or something."

He wraps his skinny arms around himself.

"I'm sorry. I understand if you want me to stay on the other side of the island, now."