Pointless Packing


elaine_icon.gif quinn_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title Pointless Packing
Synopsis Quinn invites some friends over to ehlp her prepare for her move to Gun Hill, only to find out that tehre's not really much preparation to be done yet.
Date June 21, 2010

Brooklyn: Quinn's Apartment

The day had gone pretty well so far, to say the least. Quinn had been busy all day, and by all means, she should be winding down, tired as she is from getting up so early and doing as much as she had today. But instead, she continues to be bust as ever, hands-and-knees on the floor as she roots around underneath her bed.

“You know, I hope I have enough boxes for all of this stuff,” she remarks, looking back over her shoulder at a stack in the middle of the room. “Christ, I have more notebooks than I thought, and that’s not even thinking about all the CDs and other crap I have to get…” She’s not talking to anyone in particular, just musing to the air – for now. Sable should be around any time now. A sigh, and a scratch of her head. Busy, busy day.

Knocking is for squares and people you don't know. Sable just barges in, as is her wont, announcing her presence in a loud, boisterous voice as she plunges through the door. "Hello, hello, is there anybody in there?" She saunters up behind Quinn and leaning over to get more on the hands-and-kneeling girl. "You lose somethin', hon? Need someone 'f less generous proportions t' stick her unkempt fuckin' head down there for you?"

Quinn is surprised enough that she jerks up- and smacks the back of her head on her bedframe. “Feckin’ hell!” She pops back out from underneath and immediately begins to rub her head. “Sable! Glad y’ made it. Sort of.” She slowly rises to her feet, stretching. “No, if anything, I’m finding more than I thought I had. Actually, I… kinda need your help. And wanted t’ talk to you about something.”

Sable winces as she sees this impact, and her eyes cut to one side. "Y'need, like, ice 'r somethin'?" she says, "I'd offer t' kiss 'n' make it better, but I think mebbe ice would do a better job." She straightens as Quinn rises to a stand. There's that height difference again. Oh well. Nothing to be done. "Sort of? Jesus, I didn't mean t' make you of two minds 'r nothin'," she frowns, "Is this, like, a fuckin 'talk' talk? Or are you just in need of some stimulatin' fuckin' conversation?" There's a hint of worry in her voice.

Quinn laughs at Sable’s assessment, waving a hand at her. “Nothing that dramatic… I think. Depends on how you look at it., she plops down on her bed, a few notebooks in hand. She eyeing them, occiouslly opening one and flipping through it. “I just wanted your help. I’m movin’… soon, and I need to get a lot of shit packed up an’ ready to go, was hoping you could help me with all that.”

"Movin'?" Sable says, setting her hands at her hips, "That ain't a small fuckin' matter, either. Where to and for what reason, hon? You ain't movin' out of town or anythin' are you?" That worry lingers, obviously, making her leap to conclusions or, at least, speculations.

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk about.” Quinn’s gaze moves up to Sable, eyeing her appraisingly for a moment, before she offers a half smile. “Colette asked me to move into Gun Hill, actually. The other day, I stopped t’ find you to bring you back your whisky, and I found her instead. We got t’ talking, and she just… kinda asked.”

Sable's is an expression of pure surprise, but one that shifts into a wide, if slightly wondering, smile. "I begin t' fuckin' suspect that gal of meddlin' in my life purposeful-like," she says, humor in her voice as she shakes her head, "You watch out for her, hon. She's the one of them wolves that's gone and convinced itself it really is a fuckin' sheep, just with odd goddamn eatin' habits," she says this with undeniable appreciation, as if the notion is more a compliment than a criticism.

"But that's fuckin' great," the yellow eyed girls says, spreading her arms, "The whole fuckin' band under one roof. And I'll finally get th' chance t' really make y' sick of me," she grins, "Lookin' forward to it, hon, like you don't even know."

“You meant that?” Quinn cocks an eyebrow, and then smile, exhaling sharply. “Oh, that’s a huge relief. I… was kinda worried it might be a problem,” she says sheepishly, eyes diverted to the floor for a moment. “I’m lookin’ forward to it, most everyone at Gun Hill seems right friendly.”

"Despite my appetites, hon," Sable says, folding her arms across her chest, "I've a mighty will when I call 'pon it. And it's a good fuckin' crowd. I'm sure y'll be taken int' the bosom of the group, 'n' all. Y' ain't nearly as fuckin' troublesome as m'self, and they seem t' put up with me arright. So yeah, yeah, I'd be happy t' help you with all this. Just keep me away from anythin' y' think I might be tempted t' snoop. I mean, or y' can go ahead and let me snoop, if snoopin' don't trouble you."

Quinn laughs. “I don’t think I have anything worth snooping through, except maybe a few CDs I wouldn’t outright admit to having.” She grins, wagging a finger. “But you’ll have to find those yourself. But yeah, I was hopin’ you’d help me get some of the smaller stuff I’m not using all ready to go. Some of my clothes too, I’m moving within the next week, I think.”

Sable laces her fingers together and lifts her arms up over her head, cracking her knuckles, then her neck as she tips her head to one side. "Let's get this fuckin' show on the road," she says, "Where d' we start? And put some fuckin' tunes on. The quiet make m' ears buzz somethin' awful."

Eyes dart the area around her, looking for something, until finally she goes “Aha!” and pulls up a small remote. Turning it to her computer, she hits a button, and almost immediately the speakers come to life, the middle of a song playing. The distinct vocal style immediately gives it away as Oasis, and Quinn’s head bops back and forth for a moment before she speaks up.

“For now, I’m just packin’ small stuff – notebooks, the little bit of plates and such I have, CDs, some clothes, so that I have it done. I could do it myself, but I’d rather get it done faster, and after bein’ with people all day it feels a bit odd to be alone.”

Sable gets on her tiptoes so she can reach up to ruffle Quinn's dark hair. Her grin is impish. "'n' who've you been chummin' around with, then?"

“Talked t’ Colette this mornin’m and this afternoon, I..” she pauses, looking thoughtful. She’s not exactly sure, initially, how much of the afternoon’s activities to relate. “I hung out with someone I met the other day, had some lunch. It was a good time, to be sure.”

Sable squints at Quinn, all suspicion. "Vagueness 'f the sort yer practicin' just fuckin' invites questions, hon. If it's somethin' y' gotta keep t' yerself, I dig, but if it ain't, spill, hon. What're you fuckin' afraid of?"

“Vaugeness?” Quinn asks with a quirked eyebrow. “Well, I mean… “ She scratches the back of her head, eyes narrowed, and then shrugs. “Nothing really special, you know.” She’s not exactly good at the whole lying thing, but she’s still not sure how to broach the subject in general.

Sable steps right up to Quinn, getting on tiptoes once more, but this time so she can get them as close to eye-to-eye as she can. Personal space? Puh-lease. She doesn't say anything. She just waits, letting her skeptical expression do the talking for her.
Quinn rolls her eyes and sighs. “I met a woman named Ygraine while I was vistin’ the other day. Quite nice, we had some lunch together today.” Hopefully, that would satisfy her.

Sable's eyes light up. That was just the right answer, or just the wrong one, depending on your outlook. "Oh ho!" she declares, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, brows rising and falling at the same rate, "How fuckin' nice is 'quite nice', eh?"

Quinn rolls her eyes again, laughing. She raises a finger and waggles it back and forth. “I know what you’re thinkin’ Sable. And it’s not an issue.” She smiles, and then leans back, plopping on her bed.

Sable bounds over to the bed, landing on hands and knees next to Quinn and peering down at her, "Whaddya mean it ain't an issue? Y' can't settle f'r that shit. I know what y' bein' all fuckin' evasive 'n' whatever means. I'm fuckin' bettin' y' wanna make it an issue arright."

Quinn’s eyes narrow on Sable, and she grins. “You’re right annoying when you want to be,” she teases, attempting to push Quinn over. “Just what I said. Not tryin’ to be evasive. There’s just not much t’ talk about.”

Sable lets herself be shoved, toppling over onto her back before turning to lie on her side, head propped up by her arm. "Arright. Y' can go ahead and be like that. 'n' yer lucky I'm too fond 'f y' t' be pissed 'bout it. But this ain't th' end of it, y' hear?" She wrinkles her nose, "Weren't we, like, gonna pack some shit?"

“Something like that,” Quinn remarks with a shrug, pointing to a a small set of large plastic container. “Or I might watch you work, I haven’t decided.” She looks to sable, flashing a wry grin. “Haven’t decided. But you can handle the CDs. I need to go through these-“ she motions to the notebooks, “before packing ‘em.”

"Whassall that?" Sable asks, her curiosity having to be redirected to other targets. Her foot motions in the direction of the notebooks.

Quinn’s already started flipping through then when Sable poses her question. She doesn’t react immediately, instead choosing to finish reading a page. “Lyrics, music I’ve written, half finished songs, journals. All kinds of random crap.”

Sable slides off the bed and moves over to the plastic containers of CDs. "I won't fuckin' pry, but any of that y' wanna show me, I'd love t' look over. Better I know you, hon, easier it'll be f'r us t' mesh, creative like," she glances over her shoulder, "If yer gonna watch me work, hon," she says, grinning wickedly, "Any particular way I c'n improve the view? I'm a born performer, after all."

“You don’t want that answered,” Quinn quips with a mischievous smile, just barely looking up from her notebooks. She laughs, and tosses one into a bin at the base of her bed. “Don’t worry about being too gentle with those. Some of ‘em are empty cases, and they’re all on my computer. I won’t be too upset if something happens to a lot of them.”

Sable lets out a proper cackle. "Good fuckin' answer and a perfect goddamn reply t' my bluff. I fold, hon. I continue down this road, and every gain we've made'll too swift be lost," she wrinkles her nose, "Irish devil." She hunkers down next to the CD, peering at them. "Jesus. I never got t' have a collection, y'know? Could never afford to. I'm fuckin' jealous. Where do I put all this, eh? You got bags 'r some shit?”

Quinn tosses another notebook into the bin, pointing to another plastic bin by the computer. “Toss ‘em in there. I think there’s enough space.” She chuckles, and shrugs. “Where do you think my clothes budget goes? Certainly not clothes. Most of the time. An’ you can look at some the journals when you want, but it’s mostly a bunch’a sappy crap.” Her playful smile widens, and she shrugs again. “Irish devil, hmm? Wouldn’t that require I still had red hair?” Okay, that might have been a bit much.

"The devil always wears a disguise, and often time a fair one. Lookin' now as you do, dark hair and all, I doubt not yer diabolical fuckin' heritage," Sable answers, bantering back with what, for her, passes as restraint. "Clothes budget? Jesus. I never even thought t' spend money on clothes. That's what church charity programs 'n' shit are for." Sable takes time to examine each CD quickly as she stows them in the container, not dawdling too much, but definitely sating her curiosity.

Quinn snorts at Sable’s assessment of her, shaking her head. “Well, if I were the devil-“ She stops, and shakes her head, instead tossing a notebook in the bin. “I’m, uh… sure you can imagine.” That part’s said a bit more quietly. There’s no nervousness to it, but a sense of guilt instead. “If you see anything you want to borrow or what not, feel free. Like I said, it’s all on my computer anyway.”

Sable turns and points a finger at Quinn, tipping her a wink. "Now yer foldin'? At least we're even now. We're gettin' good at this, both of us, eh?" She turns back to the CDs, beaming at Quinn's offer. Immediately she starts setting aside maybe every third or fourth CD for consideration. She's hungry for music, having fed her ears as poorly as she fed her stomach during the leaner months of her trek north.

“Folding?” Quinn arches an eyebrow, and then tosses a notebook. “Christ, these are old. Why do I still have these?” She sighs and rolls her eyes, just straight up tossing the rest into the bin. “I’m so going to need Magnes’ help with all of this.”

"Nice t' have someone that c'n lighten all yer loads like that," Sable says, speaking well of Magnes, which she always done unless she's making fun of him, "Mighty fuckin' fine thing that he has Elaine. I envy that shit. That's a thing I actually fuckin' believe in. Most loves are lies, or end up that way."

Quinn hops up from her bed, falling back to her knees as she looks under the bed for anything else. “I’m not sure who I’m more jealous of there, you know?” She laughs a grin on her face that Sable can’t see. “They’re both lucky to have each other.”

Sable gives a snort, "We're gettin' fuckin' sentimental," she says, "I'm allergic to this shit. I can get truly, deeply mushy only 'bout a very few fuckin' things." She glances over her shoulder, eyes lingering on Quinn, then squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. Bad. Bad bad. Old habits die hard.

Quinn laughs, shaking her head. “I’d stay away from some of those CDs, then. They’re bound to bring out the worst of that.” She’s half under the bed, and grumbling. “I thought I ahd a box of pictures under here. Where could that have gotten too?” She pulls back out, a scowl on her face. “I hope it didn’t get thrown out…”

Sable pauses, turning around and leaning back against the desk. She keeps her eyes mostly on the space under the bed where Quinn's head ought to be. Mostly. "That's somethin' I gotta see. We talkin'… how long a fuckin' duration?" she grins, "Has it got baby Quinn? Were you a chubby kid?"

Quinn blinks. “Christ, no. I’d rather burn those.” She looks back at Sable, staring daggers at her. “Mostly stuff since I moved to New York. Me and my-“ She pauses, wrinkling her nose. “Me and my first girlfriend after I came to the country. No way in hell you’re seeing them, though” She laughs, and her eyes begin to scan the room. “You know, I texted Elaine too. I wonder if she’ll stop by…”

Quinn looks back at Sable, eyes narrow. She turns and plops on her butt, a hand to her chin. "That's… somethin' I'd rather not talk about." She's actually touched on it before, but going into details is a differant matter entirely. She rises from her seat, hands on her hips. "You know, I wonder what there is besides clothes and kitchenware…"

Sable frowns, but then nods, "Arright. I know matters of th' heart can be damn painful. Let it be," she steps back, so as not to crowd Quinn. Crowding has to be apportioned with wisdom. "You fuckin' tell me. I used to have the clothes on m' back and anything I could fit in a guitar case besides a fuckin' guitar. I dunno 'bout all this material possession shit."

“God, I don’t even know what I keep anymore.” Quinn’s brow furrows. “I… may have brought you over here for nothing, as far as packing goes.”

"Well then," Sable, smirking as she so often does, aggressive even in happiness, "We're gonna have t' find another way t' pass the fuckin' time, cuz I didn't haul my ass all the way over here f'r nothin'."

“Well, we still have a lot CDs to go through. I’ll handle clothes.” She grins, pointing back to Sable’s bin and pile of CDs. “And you know you’d totally haul yourself out here for nothin’.” She sticks a tongue out playfully at Sable.

Sable glowers at Quinn. "Don't make light 'f my fuckin' affection," she says, "I gotta make sense 'f things as best I can, damn you!" She's not upset, but maybe a little embarrassed… "Y'know full well you'd cross just as far for just as little if I asked!"

Quinn furrows her brow, a bit of a confused look on her face. “I was just teasin’. Sorry.” She chuckles, and shrugs. “You’re right, I would. Good thing it won’t be far to go soon.” She snickers, pulling open the drawers.

"Naw, naw, it's fine, hon," Sable says, going back to the CDs, "It's right y' should know how well I think of y'. And thus how fuckin' serious I am 'bout keepin' you as my fuckin' friend. Er… well, absent the actual fuckin'." She smiles lopsidedly. Even she knows that was a groaner.

A hand moves to Quinn’s face, sliding down it dramatically as she shakes her head. “I’m not sure why you think that’s a problem, but I appreciate the sentiment.” She quirks a smile, and winks. “Well, most of it.” Hey, if Sable can make jokes, so can she! “So, what CDs have y’ seen that you like?”

"Hon, if I could be confident it wouldn't be more than just us havin' fun," Sable says, sounding serious enough, "I'd be real tempted t' consider it. But fine a gal as you are, I'd soon have my heart swell, and begin to make myself a love fool over y', which'd turn my head somethin' awful." That's quite a thing to say, but she says it matter-of-factly. And follows by picking up and fanning a number of CDs. Belle and Sebastian, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Oasis, La Roux and the Get Up Kids appear to be the winners in this round. "I'll be back, hon. Gonna find an excuse t' come visit you every goddamn day when you move in!"

There is a another surprised look on Quinn’s face- she hadn’t expected the rather serious response, so all she does initially is scratch the back of her head. “Ah, it’s better this way anyway, I imagine. I don’t think we’d get anything done, otherwise” she remarks with a mischievous grin, eyes narrowed as she looks at the album selection. The majority of them don’t seem that off to her, but her attention snaps back to one in particular, causing her to arch a brow. “…La Roux? That’s…. unexpected. If you’re gonna take that one, find my Ladyhawke CD too, she’s even better.”

"I like 'Tigerlily'," Sable admits, without shame, "'n' I think her voice is fuckin' sex, man. That gal has some style. Makes electronica more th'n about dance or beat. Real fuckin' versatile." She nods, turns, and fishes out Ladyhawke as well, adding it to her spoils, "'n' you have a fair point there, hon. Y' know just how bad we'd be, given th' chance. Another reason why I gotta only let m'self look," she turns, demonstrating what she may do, "But not touch."

Quinn snorts, shaking her head. “Fair ‘nough, for sure.” Clothes are pulled out of the drawers and eyed, thrown out on the bed to be folded and stuffed with the notebooks. “There’s a whole mess of electronic and pop that doesn’t sound too far off in there if you wanna root around for it. Or are you not brave enough for Lissy Trullie and Little Boots? Lord, and now I can’t help but picture you listenin’ to Lady Gaga…” And she just erupts into a fit of giggles.

Sable bites her lip in a mischievous grin that is rarely seen in this particular way. "I gotta a bit of a fuckin' thing f'r Little Boots," she admits, "I'll listen t' her stuff just t' think about her singin' 'n' playin' it. She's talented as hell, and cute as all get out, the little Brit, even if I can't quite feel for what she's doin'." She nods, "Gaga knows how t' do a show. That I admire her f'r. Best managed image in an age. 'n' smart as hell. Fuckin' space age teflon."

“You’re just full of surprises, you know that?” Quinn flashes a smile over to Sable. “Poor woman has just the most bizarre fashion sense ever, if it can be called that.” An entire drawer set out on the bed, mostly jeans and hoodies, all warmer clothes. She plops down, facing Sable dead on, and begins to fold and toss – a sort of self defeating process, but she goes on with it anyway.

"She's got her own fuckin' fashion, like, company or whatever," Sable says, tossing the last of the CDs into the bin and sliding the lid into place, "I c'n only wish I c'n do that much 'n' still have some fuckin' integrity. We ain't just artists. We're entertainers. We're public figures. Or…" she shrugs, "We will be." Like it's that easy.

Knockknockknockknockknock knockknock. Elaine proceeds to rhythmically knock at the door, phone in one hand and knocking with the other. She'd been feeling a bit antsy and needed to get out, so she was incredibly grateful for the text she got about hanging out. And so the redhead stands at the door, waiting for an answer.

Quinn blinks, attention turned up to the door and an eyebrow raised. “I guess that’s Elaine. I hope. I can’t imagine anyone else who’d be stopping by.” She shrugs. “Door’s open, come on in!” she calls from where she sits, while folding another top.

Sable brightens up. "Elaine made it?" she says, sounding thrilled. She turns towards the door, lifts her hands, ready to call out… and then she suddenly grins, very wicked, and tiptoes over to the side of the door, lying in wait at the side, in partial hiding. It's time for a surprise!

The door opens, and in steps Elaine. "Thanks for the text, Quinn, I was dying to get out but I didn't really have anywhere to go, so you're a bit of a lifesaver." Of course, she's still got said phone in hand, frowning it a bit as she tucks it into her pocket. She's /completely/ unaware of Sable standing right there.

Sable sidles directly behind Elaine, walking while she talks so as to cover the sound of her footsteps. She tiptoes just a bit closer after Elaine, and when silence falls, she interjects. Her arms scoop around Elaine from behind in a bear hug, and she stands as far up on her feet as she can. "Yer late, hon. But we'll forgive y' gal, if y' ask nice," she says, her pale skinned arms remarkably strong.

Elaine gasps, completely surprised as the arms grab her from behind. "Jesus Christ!" She exclaims, though she relaxes as soon as she realizes it was Sable. What was she thinking? After all, who else would jump her in Quinn's apartment. "Alright, alright, I apologize, was tryin' to take care of something all evening and it just didn't turn out right. But I'm here. Y'can let me go now. Or are you too enamored of holdin' me, Sable?"

Quinn snickers, shaking her head. “It’s not a night until Sable makes trouble, is it?” she quips, laughing as Elaine is grabbed. “I don’t know if that was good enough. What do you say, Sable? Did she apologise well enough?” Quinm chuckles again, quirking an eyebrow at Elaine’s last comment.

Sable looks at Quinn over the captive Elaine's shoulder, "I figure a gross, like, whatever it's called… foe graw? Whatever it may be… that one as grievous as this requires more th'n just a single solitary 'I apologize'. Jesus, anyone can say that, eh?" She keeps firm hold on Elaine, "'n' I'm in no hurry t' let y' go, that's for sure, gal. I'll let Quinn judge, bein' the offended party 'n' all."

Elaine looks pleadingly towards Quinn. "Aw, come on! It wasn't that bad, you two obviously kept each other company while I was gone." She waggles her eyebrows suggestively before winking at Quinn. "Anyways.. I can always promise to compliment you all evening, Quinn, since I've so gravely offended." She glances over her shoulder at Sable's head. "It's faux pas. French. Literally means 'false step'." Aw, look at her! Soundin' intelligent!

“Mm, I think I like seeing her squirm…” Quinn intones, eyes narrowed. She laughs, and shakes her head, hopping up. “Let ‘er go, Sable. I know you don’t want to, I wouldn’t either, but…” She chuckles, and then looks past the two and into the hall way. “Actually… seeing what you picked out, Sable, I think I’m going to run out to my scooter and get something for you.” Immediately, she’s making her way for teh door, and pushing past. “You better not still be holding her when I get back!”

"To restrain a lady without cause is beneath even my fuckin' unconscionable manners," Sable says, releasing Elaine and sidling around her, giving the redhead a deferential little bow, "'n' thanks f'r the correction, though I can't promise it won't just fall out m' other ear just as soon as something else gets shoved into m' head." She arches a brow at the retreating Quinn, and gives Elaine a helpless shrug, "She's crazy, surely."

Elaine can't help but laugh. "I'm sure she /is/ crazy. But we're fond of the crazy ones, I think." She looks to Sable. "Oh, don't worry. I can keep correcting you as long as you'd like. Plus it's fun to make use of all my many languages. Kinda a bummer I don't have a more interesting ability, huh? Maybe I should go all high and mighty and become a diplomatic translator and travel the world." She pauses. "But that'd mean I have to behave."

"Sanity, far as I can figure it, is little more th'n blinkers on th' mind," Sable confides, sagely. She takes a seat at the foot of Quinn's bed and pats the space beside her, "Hunker down, hon," she says, "Tell me whatall you've been up to, what sort of misbehavin' y've kept y'rself occupied with."

Elaine takes the opportunity to /flop/ down next to Sable. What's the fun of a bed if you don't bounce on it a little? "Misbehavin'? While I might aim to misbehave, I'm afraid I'm not too mischievous without a pal or two. And /work/ ain't misbehaving either, so.." She leans back on the bed. "I'm afraid I've got no tales of intrigue for you today."

Sable taps the side of her head, "I'm bad company f'r m'self," she says, "Trouble's a sure thing, as fair Quinn said, but tends towards crime and villainy and all that 'nless I've got good influences around," she grins, "But I make do with y'all in a pinch." She folds her arms, "I need that fuckin' job though. Whatever job it may be. Goddammit but ain't that always how it is? Y' have work when y' can't stand to, but as soon as y' wanna start with an honest livin', there's nothin' to be done 'bout it."

I'm supposed to have lunch with my boss sometime next week or so.. I can see if he's got any openings. Y'gotta make a resume, though, so at least he'll know what kinda skills you've got." Elaine states. "Kinda nervous about the lunch thing, though. I'm not sure if he likes me. I mean, I do a good job, a damn fine one, I'm sure of it. It's just.. I dunno, he seems like kinda a cold guy."

“Who’s a cold guy?” Quinn has reappeared at her own doorway, her head tilted. “Magnes isn’t being a jerk is he, I’ll kick him right in…” She trails off, laughing. “Sorry.” She holds up a hand and folds out two CDs - Goldfrapp CDs. “You might like her, Sable. A bit more poppy than the others, but quite good.”

Sable makes a face, "Bossmen tend t' have somethin' wrong with 'em," she says, "It's a fuckin' requirement f'r the position, 's far 's I c'n tell. Nothin' t' do about that." Her view of the working world is dim in general. Quinn's reappearance is cause for pleasure, and the CDs cause for slight flusteration. She's much more used to weaseling things out of people. Just getting stuff is still kind of new to her. "Aw, well… thanks, hon. I find m'self incapable of expressin' gratitude in, like, a sufficient fuckin' way."

"Magnes is being a sweetheart. He promised me a /real/ date. If he remembers he promised me that, of course." Elaine chuckles. "But yeah, just my boss. I'm supposed to have one lunch with him and talk 'bout work, but it makes me kinda nervous. I feel like I don't know what to say. Although I suppose as long as I blather on about what I've been doing I'll look like the dutiful employee." She does, however, /grin/ after a moment. "Sable, has anyone ever told you that your 'I'm getting a present' face is priceless?"

“Ooh, a date! Lucky girl.” Quinn grins – it’s a nice feeling to know there’s a date impending. “My boss at the bookstore is such a git. I try to avoid him whenever possible. He tried to fire me the other week just because I wanted to scale back my hours! Absolutely untenable.” At Elaine’s observance, she giggles, pointing at Sable. “She’s right, you know. You’re lucky I didn’t have m’ camera out, or there’d be a picture now.”

Sable drops the CDs in her lap and claps her hands over her poor aggrieved face, fingers sliding aside so that her yellow eyes can glare balefully out at the other two women. "'n' y' can have it, free of cost, if y' value it so highly," she grumps at Elaine, "Ain't my fault I've not developed my grace in gratitude 'nuff." Her palms slightly muffle her words as she speaks.

"I don't think Magnes and I have ever really been on a real date. Hell, just saw our first movie together the other day, but wasn't even on a date." Elaine chuckles, though she nods at the boss comment. "Yeah, bosses get pissed whenever you say you don't want as much work cause then /they/ have to do work." She looks between the two. "I think this means more surprise presents for Sable in the future." She wiggles her fingers ominously (as ominous as finger wiggling can be) at Sable, grinning. "And you'll never know if one's coming."

Quinn laughs, shaking her head at the other two women, hands on her hips. “Well, now she’ll be expecting it all the time. You’ve just ruined the surprise.” As she speaks, she winks at Eilaine, nodding. “I can’t recall the last time I was on a real date…” She moves a finger to her chin, tapping a foot. She wrinkles her nose, thinking. “You know, I invited both of you over here fr packing, and there’s almost none to be done anymore. What do you say, we go get some drinks?”

"Nah, didn't ruin it, just enlisted the help of a little paranoia. She'll never know, now, when to expect one. A bunch all at once, none for a while.. one every now and again.. who knows?" Elaine winks again. "Ah-ha! So you caught on to my scheme as to why I came late.. so I didn't have to do the hard work!" She giggles. "Drinks it is."

“Fantastic!” Quinn doesn’t wait for Sable to reply, grabbing the girl by the arm and dragging her towards the door. “I’ll dial a taxi. It’s going to be a fun night, for sure.”

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