"What do you mean, no?"
"I mean hell no," Sam said, shaking his head furiously at Quinn. "We're friends and all, but deep down, I'm terrified of Rachel. I don't want her coming after me."
"I will NOT be responsible for your descent into madness," he said, taking a dignified sip of his coffee."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Remember when we were in school? That brief, wonderful, horrifying period when we were roommates? Remember that time you helped me study for Multicultural Psych? You diagnosed yourself with every single thing in the book. Including shit you couldn't possibly have! Tell me how you figure you have racial identity issues common of biracial children, Quinn…."
"Okay, that was one time! And it wasn't that bad?"
"How do you have a nationalist inferiority complex brought on by internalized anti-immigrant rhetoric?"
"Okay!" Quinn groused. "I get it. Still…I need help. I want to play the part well."
Sam huffed. "Fine," he said after a moment. "I'll give you a brief rundown of a FEW symptoms, but I'm not going through the litany of mental illness with you. That can only lead to drama."
"You rock, Sam Evans," Quinn said.
LbN: And that's the end! I'll be extending some of these into proper fics. In a few weeks there will be a poll up on my profile that will let you vote on which ones.