[Quentin's face darkens. Fine, you want to talk truth? He'll talk truth, you little twerp. The second he's free of this fish-stick's grasp, you're on thin ice.

He tilts his head out of the fish-man's grasp, giving the creature a look that would kill if it was possible.]

Cram it, fish-stick. You don't even know the half of it! And you!

[He manages to squirm an arm free of the awkward position to vaguely point/flap a hand in Peter's direction.]

All I've had was my work! Tony could do whatever he wanted, raise a kid, have some happy little family bullshit, but me? [He scoffs, a rough angry sound. Greg's grip loosens a little further.] No. He tossed me aside, and kept you. Why should I care about anybody else, if they can't even care about me?

[Maybe another truth or two will be enough to have Greg's grip loosen enough for Quentin to fall on his ass. Care to find out?]