Participants:
| Scene Title | What's On My Mind |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Quinn and Sable meet in the Village, searching for the souls and stores brave enough to open early. |
| Date | May 29, 2010 |
Streetside.
One of these days, Quinn was going to learn not to make any sort of time related promise. Late, late, late, always late for such important dates, no matter how hard she tried otherwise. She'd been rather thrilled when she'd gotten a call from Sable, enough so that it surprised her a little bit, but that had been almost an hour and a half ago.
She said she'd be there in thirty minutes. Oops.
Gritting her teeth, she speeds her scooter as fast as she can manage down the still-not-entirely clear streets, hoping it wasn't going to come apart on her as it jerked. Sable'd asked her to meet her at the Village, peruse some of the music stores if they were open, and that certainly wasn't something Quinn could pass up on - hell, after the last few weeks, she was dying for some new music. Having someone to spend the day with? Huge bonus.
But now she was here, late as she may be. Helmet stowed away in the trunk, she sighs and turns her attention to the task at hand: Finding her wayward companion. A smile crosses her face as she looks around, hands in pockets and headphones draped around her neck.
It's not that Sable is incapable of social anxiety - to the contrary, someone with her limited social graces can suffer such worry acutely given the right circumstances. But this does not often extend to peers, even attractive, viable peers. Quinn, being attractive and viable, shouldn't set off Sable's nerves… but she does. And the yellow eyed former vagrant cannot help but note this fact; she is concerned by what it may mean.
So it's only this nervousness that makes Sable as punctual as she is, since she's perennially late herself, a defiant exaggeration of Southern pace in the face of the hectic Northern lifestyle. Her geographic roots are cause for pride - where she comes from came also blues and rock and country (when country still had a soul). Perched on a cement pillar, the kind to keep cars from nosing up onto the broad brick walkways of the Village, she keeps her lookout, growing increasingly worried that she's been stiffed, and increasingly worried about her increasing worry. This kind of recursive emotion is no good for a creature of Sable's temperament, and it's only her /own/ headphones, clamped over her ears and pumping 'Wish You Were Here' into her jittery mind that keeps her from heaven knows what kind of silly self-distracting antics.
But, wait… is that- it is! As Sable spots Quinn a smile spreads across her face and she tugs her headphones free. In a rather risky move, she clambers up to stand on the top of the pillar, arms extended to help her maintain her balance, and calls out. "Hey! Hey good lookin'! I'm talkin' to you!"
Quinn hears the voice, looking around for several moments fruitlessly before her vision finally settles on the precariously perched Sable. A wide grin spreads across her face as she waves to the other woman. "Hey! Hope I didn' keep you waiting too long." Hands returned to pockets, Quinn begins a mildly paced walk towards where Sable awaits. "I'm really quite sorry about that." Music can still be heard coming from Quinn's recently removed headphones, the blaring sound of guitar and duelling vocals just audible. She reaches up and runs a hand through her hair, chuckling nervously. "I guess I'll never get this whole punctuality thing down after all."
Sable hops down from the pillar, her legs sinking knee-deep into the snow. She highsteps over towards Quinn. "Naw, don't you worry about that," she says, "Just glad y'made it." She brushes the front of her jacket, an article of clothing she'll hopefully get to ditch in favor of actual summer clothing soon, and tilts her head. "Whassat yer listenin' to?" she inquires but, rather, than wait, she takes a big step forward, coming right up to Quinn, and tips her ear down close to Quinn's headphones, to get a listen for herself.
Half yelled vocals shared between a pair of singers reverberate into Sable's ears as she listens, and the sudden proximity instinctively prompts Quinn to lean back a little bit, though the reach on her headphones as they slide and extend is just far enough not to pull them out of the other woman's ear. "Band called Taking Back Sunday. Never been a huge fan, but someone really wanted me to listen to something of theirs, so I'm givin' it a shot. Kinda rubbish so far, though." Adjusting her headphones back to normal, comfortable length around her neck, she looks down at Sable and grins, for a moment drawn to her yellows eyes. "Well, 'm glad you're not angry. I've had quite a few things go all downhill because I'm bad at being on time," she remarks. "So, what's up?"
Sable's lips purse as she listens. Her nose wrinkles. "Someone should tell these poor bastards it ain't the 90's anymore," she says, "'course, what the fuck 'm I sayin'? I don't got a record deal, eh?" She rises from her lean, grinning at Quinn. "I ain't from around here. South of Mason-Dixon people 'r' more understandin' about someone takin' their goddamn time. So, don't you worry 'bout that as far as I'm concerned, arright? 's long as you show up," she suddenly leans forward again, and places a kiss on the corner of Quinn's lips, "I won't be sore." She tilts her head to one side, indicating the row of storefronts, most still dark. "Let's see which stores have the balls t' open their door t' us." Her hand extends, offered to Quinn.
"It isn't all bad, you know? The stuff like this. Just… not these guys," Quinn responds just before Sable can plant the kiss. A blush crosses her face again, almost as if it never left after the previous night, but this time Quinn smiles in response. "Well, that's well and good to know. Keep me from worryin' a bit in the future." A beat passes, and then Quinn reaches out to take Sable's hand, walking up so that she's beside her. "Still awfully dark. I've heard it's still kinda rough in some parts with everything still comin' back on, I figure some people think they'd have to be daft to reopen quite yet. Not that I'm that worried about it. I'm just still happy to be outta confinement." She turns to look at Sable, smiling. "Right then, shall we?"
Pickings look thin, to say the least. Still, there's a lot of the Village, and some of the people working there are very dedicated. It's a dedication that Sable seems keen to match, too, trudging through the remaining snow, a purposeful look on her face as she searches for signs of life. She keeps a fairly firm grip on Quinn's hand, as if trying to transfer some of her resolve to other young woman, just in case she needs it. "Yeah, gotta admit, I though 'bout breakin' in to one of these places while everythin' was abandoned and the cops couldn't do nothin'," she says, "Just thought 'bout it, though, nothin' more. If I was gonna rob someplace, wouldn't be decent folks sellin' music. I'd go after th' goddamn record makers themselves if I wanted to do some Robin Hood stuff." She lifts a glove to her brow, more for appearances than for any practical purpose. "Dunno. Kinda want to buy a friend somethin'. He's good people, 'n' while I can't afford shit like he can afford, y'know… like… I just wan' 'im to know I'm not a freeloader."
Quinn's slow to nod in respond, mostly because it's still fairly cold, given the surrounding snow and the rising but still chilly temperatures. She wrinkles her nose a bit, shrugging. "I can understand the temptation, at least. I'd have to be mad to do it myself. I could use a new guitar, though…" She laughs rather loudly for a brief moment, petering out into a nervous chuckle. Sable's firm grip does well to keep her from falling behind, even as her eyes and gaze wanders across the village, taking in everything as she looked around. At the mention of Sable's friend, though, her attention is drawn back to her. "Freeloading?" Quinn couldn't remember if Sable had said anything about a roommate the night before. She'd been a bit preoccupied. "My old roommate used to think she was freeloading when she stayed with me. As long as you're helpin' out, I doubt your friend minds." Granted, she knew nothing about Sable's friend, but Quinn tends to think the best of people.
One hopes Magnes would understand that he was the furthest thing from Sable's mind that night. Preoccupied is right. "Aw, yeah, I'm sure, I'm sure. He was fuckin' bummed when I said I might hafta move out. Honest, I don't know if I'm still gonna. But you should meet 'im, anyhow," she flashes Quinn a grin, "As long as you don't mind that I'll be showin' you off," the smile turns down a few notches, "'course, I dig if, like, you wanna be discreet. Just lemme know." There has been no real discussion, after the fact, of what what happened actually means, if anything. Sable doesn't seem too worried about pressing the issue, though. Que Sera, Sera.
Quinn returns Sable's grin, offering another shrug. "I'm not really discreet about much. I mean, some things, but… you know, who cares?" And really, she didn't care. Not like it was anyone else's business anyway. "Though, if you're friend's as good at music, I'd fancy meetin' him regardless," There's a bit of a sly tone to her voice. "Where were 'ya thinking of moving to, though?"
"Aw, see, now y'got me wonderin' about what you /are/ discreet about, hon," Sable says, waggling her brows, "But I'll let time 'n' liquor take care of that for me." She gives Quinn's hand a squeeze. "He and I are the sole two members of our band-t'-be, and I wouldn't ally m'self with anyone who didn't have what it took. Sure he's good. I'll introduce you." She gives a shrug of her own, "No idea, 'bout movin', really. Whatever place 'll have me, whatever's…" she pauses, about to say 'safe', but that's a whole line of conversation she's not sure she's ready for, "Y'know… convenient." Conveniently, she finds something to cover this dodge, her arm lifting, finger pointing to other side of the street. "My eyes foolin' me, or does that look like light in that there store?" It /does/ look like light. Not in the display windows, but way back nearer what might be the sales desk. Hard to tell from this distance. "Feel like investigatin'?" she suggests.
Quinn lets slip a quiet chuckle, shaking her head in amusement. "Heh, maybe someday. You know, if it comes up." She doesn't let on what she means, instead offering Sable a smile. "Band to be?" She couldn't remember if Sable mentioned that the night before either. How dreadfully terrible of her. How was it that the snow storm had suddenly brought all the seeking musicians out of the woodwork? It's like a damned miracle. "Fabulous, then. I look forward to it, I'm sure we'll have a right good time." Her fee hand slipping into her pocket as Sable squeezes her other, Quinn can't help but frown. She doesn't press on the housing issue, feeling that it's a not quite her business. Looking up as Sable points ahead, she quirks a brow. "Aye, let's go see." Hopefully, it's the music store she so wantfully seeks.
Sable catches Quinn's frown, her own brow arching. "Somethin' the matter, hon?" she says, as they cross the road, each step feeling a bit like four with all the impeding snow. Frankly, only someone crazy would be opening their shop now, but musicians are not renowned for their sanity. "Aye, band-to-be…" she agrees, though she doesn't go on, leaving the topic open. She doesn't want to outright suggest Quinn see how she fits in… but her reasons are selfish, and Sable is trying to be on her best ostensible behavior.
Quinn quickly shakes her head, her frown reversing a bit. "Nah, nothing's wrong. It's just…" Her expression shifts a bit, looking pensive. "Well, I like to help, and it makes me feel a bit bad when you mention wantin' to move and I can't offer anythin' without feeling…" a beat, and then a chuckle. "Forward." She shrugs. "Don't worry about it, just me own little worries. I'm more interested in this band 'a yours. I should have figured you'd be such, really. Sounds incomplete, though."
Sable's brow quirks, and her strides across the snow slow, delaying their arrival at the ever-closer maybe-open storefront by a little. Long enough, at least, to continue the discussion. "Well, hon, it's like this. I don't wanna move in particular - right now I live with my bandmate and it's cool, since practice and writing 'r' easy, just whenever when he gets back from work. But as t' you helpin'…" Her hand shifts in Quinn's grasp, fingers lacing with hers, "Be 's forward as y'like, hon. I don't scare easy. Most I'll do is warn you 'bout openin' your door to crazy folks." She flashes Quinn a grin, then tips over to place a peck on her cheek.
Quinn chuckles, still with a hint of nervousness, and looks down at her companion. "I guess. I was just going to say that if you needed a place, I could always check with friends. I'm sure someone's going to be looking for a new roommate after all this mess." She grins, and chuckles. "And/ you know, there's my place in the interim if it's more convenient." That marks twice she's offered up her place in the last two or so weeks. Her mom would //kill her if she knew. Quinn quickly makes a waving motion of her hand, attempting to move on from the line of conversation. "So, tell me about this band in the making."
Sable's expression remains somewhat sly, but she doesn't practice any more delay tactics, "Arright. I'll consider you a resource, hon, if that's how you'd like it. Thanks. And yeah… I dunno. We need a drummer, bad. But that's a universal goddamn rule." Again, a certain reticence on the matter, her reasons selfish and unspoken. They clear the last snowdrift and find themselves up near a plate glass window. Sable lets go of Quinn's hand so she can move up to the storefront, cupping her eyes to the display. "There's… I think… mebbe someone's in back? The lights on way back there. Should we knock or holler or somethin'?"
"I dunno. It could be someone, ya know… breakin' in, and I'd hate to get them in a tizzy." Quinn shrugs, and then knocks once on the glass, not waiting for a response before continuing to speak to Sable. "Well, what kinda band is it? You can get by surprisingly well these days on synth and drum machines, at least until you find an actual drummer. Slipping her hands in her pocket for a little bit of warmth, she turns to Sable. "Drums is one'a the thing I don't do, but I could always show you guys how to use that stuff until you get the real thing and all."
There is only so long that Sable can go without being either forthright about her reservations, or coming off as an ass for no clearly state reason. Neither sound good, but the former is a much better option, ultimately, and even she recognizes that. "Hon, I'd ask you to join on proper in a heartbeat, be our lovely synthetic angel, and a proper contemporary goddamn influence," she says, "Trouble is… aw hell, I feel all weird fer havin' this discussion or whatever out here. Want that I should just come clean, or can we wait to, like, talk about this over coffee. 'r drinks - even better." Within the store, a figure emerges from the back room, a thin man who doesn't /look/ like he's robbing the place. He peers at the two figures at this window, but does no more for the moment.
Quinn quirks an eyebrow, at bit surprised at this turn. Still, she simply nods in response. "Aye, then, another time." Seeing the man staring at them, a smile crosses her face as she wave. "Heya! My friend an' I were wondering if you were open for th' afty, or if you were just cleanin' up!" At this point, Quinn really hopes it's the former - the tease of an open music store in all this mess was too much.
Sable's relieved that she gets to defer the admission, but is also simultaneously disappointed… since it only delays the inevitable rather than just dealing with it, which she could of. As Quinn turns to call out to the guy behind the glass, yellow eyes linger on her. Sable looks undisguisedly thoughtful, and more than a little torn. The man in the store hesitates, then moves up to the glass, walking cautiously. Through the window, it's hard to hear anything - he may not have caught the details of what Quinn was saying. He gives a shrug and mouthes 'Closed'. Sable catches this movement, and his 'words', and rolls her eyes. "What the fuck? Guy doesn't let two lovely ladies into his premises? We don't look shady 'r dangerous, do we? I'm, like, ninety pounds soakin' wet ferchrissake. Hold on…" she sticks her hand into her pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. She waves it, then presses it against the window. She says, loudly and slowly. "Customers!" The points to the money, then at herself and Quinn.
Quinn laughs, simultaneously leaning on the shorter girl's shoulder. "I dunno. Hoodie, huge headphones, out in this mess. I might look a right bit shady," she replies with a wide grin. "But if he's closed me might as well let 'em be." She pauses, thinking how to best phrase her next statement without sending anyone into a fit of giggles. "And, I mean, if you're that soakin' we can head someplace dryer."
Why must Sable's life be full of struggles? Her instant urge is to take Quinn up on her offer - 'someplace dryer' sounds, to Sable's selective hearing, like a perfect chance to maybe get closer again, at least see where things stand without having to directly talk about how things stand, an action that can place what Sable thinks of as 'the magic' at risk. But god/dammit/ she hates to be defeated when she has something in mind, something she wants. Will it, be it, take it. The man looks on the fence about this, and Sable uses her thumb to fan the bills on her hand. They're all ones - the cash reserve unique to strippers and street musicians - but the lack of light inside makes this indistinct, so it's hard to know how big a buyer Sable might be. There is a moment of decision for the man behind the glass, but finally he nods and goes for the door, unlocking it and opening it. "Come on, hurry up," he says, "I really shouldn't be doing this." Sable beams, triumphant. She motions for Quinn to follow as she moves into the shop. It's cold - the heat isn't on yet - but the rest of the place looks intact and CDs line the walls and displays.
Now that she was actually inside of the store, a curious thought occurred to Quinn: With her apartment still largely without power outside of occasional flickers of life, what was she going to do with any music she bought today? A sigh escapes her lips as she wanders behind Sable, looking around racks of CDs for anything that catches her eyes. It didn't look like there was much in the way of local or indie music, much less music from her homeland, but that was fine, really. Maybe for once, music wasn't really the point. "Nice work, Sable. Most'a the women I know would resort to flashin' before showing off money," she quips, even as she thumbs through a set of CDs. "Was there anythin' in particular you wanted for your friend?"
Even as she spoke, Quinn fidgeted. Something was nagging her in the back of her mind, and it jsut wouldn't let go, causing a frown to flash across her face.
Sable snorts, "My goods are not fer public goddamn consumption," she says, "Only the worthy, hon. Only the worthy." Normally she'd throw in some sort of salacious gesture - a brow wiggle, a wink, something extra classy - but she's all business at the moment, her eyes scooting along the displays, hand out, hovering. "Jay, jay, jay…" she says, "Yeah… yeah, there was. He's a huge goddamn dork, bless his heart, so I figured I'd get him somethin'…" she halts, having found the 'J' section, "To suit… Where are you?" Her eyes rove from label to label, trying to moor herself in the alphabet. "Jay aie… is 'i' before or after 'e'? I never remember that shit. All those fuckin'… whatevers." The word she is looking for is 'vowels'. She glances back at Quinn, to make it clear the question isn't rhetorical, another product of a mostly-rejected education, and she catches the frown. It makes Sable frown in turn. "Storm clouds keep crossin' your pretty face, hon. What's hidin' your sun?"
Quinn shakes her head in mock disdain at Sable's retort, woefully missing the first part of her followup question. "All those… what?" Quinn seems genuinely confused at first, a moment of realization only coming after a few beats of her mind going 'What the hell?'. "Oh, yes. I before e," she replies with a bit of a forced chuckle. The second question, however, causes her hand to visibly falter as she reaches for a CD. "Eh, it's nothing," she lies as she resumes looking over a CD emblazoned with "MUSE" across it's front. "Worryin' about some stuff back home." That wasn't quite like her, but she'd promised she wouldn't pry.
"Aw, hey, wait… they fucked up then. The 'i' is after the 'e' here. Whatever… here we go," Sable smiles with satisfaction as she pulls a CD case from the display. It's shrink wrapped, and the case itself is more card stock than plastic, likely a lower budget release. It's emblazoned with cartoonish images in the style of old sci-fi. "This'll do real nice." She turns to face Quinn, leaning back against the edge of the display, "Well, hon, consider me a willin' and sympathetic ear. Least I can do. But your business is your business, if you wanna keep it that way. Just… y'know… know I'm here. And all." She sidles up to the register, where the storekeeper has been keeping careful watch. When he sees the proffered CD, his expression is very much 'That's it?', but Sable doesn't dignify it with an acknowledgement.
Quinn lets out a long sigh, shoulders slumping a bit as she backs away from the CD rack with a CD colourfully marked on the front with the letters OMNI. "Well, it's just…" A long enough pause for her to reach the register and plunk down her own purchase and money passes before she shakes her head and starts talking again. "Well, I lied, I'm still kinda worderin' about this band thing, but you said…" she trails off, shrugging again.
The purchases are paid for, but the man behind the counter doesn't enter the sales into the register. These girls are paying in cash, and no auditor will notice a little money unaccounted for while the thaw is going on. Tax free income. Sable isn't even paying attention to this little instance of tax evasion, slipping her paid-for CD into her jacket pocket and regarding Quinn with puzzlement. "What'd I say? I say a lot of stuff, hon. I can't keep track of half of what comes out of my mouth m'self. Did I say somethin' stupid? Cuz I'm sorry if that's so."
Quinn regards Sable with a puzzled look for a moment. "Something stupid? Don't be daft." A shuckle shines through the suddenly downturned atmosphere. "It's jsut, you seemed like…I dunno. You seemed a bit off when I offered to help. If 'ya don't want me to, you can just say so." A thin smile forms up. "I won' mind. Everyone's music is their own thing."
This is so not what the storekeeper needs. Some sort of awkward showdown between friends or whatever, in a store that he was just getting /ready/ to be one of the first open, not actually open today? Forget it. He clears his throat, significantly, but Sable completely ignores him. She's much too busy reacting to what Quinn said. She lifts her hands, "Oh, Jesus! No, no… I… okay… yeah, I did say somethin' stupid. A variety of idjit type shit. Hold on. I, uh…" she only now looks to the shopkeeper, "Mebbe here's not the best place or whatever. This is more like, personal-type. Let's walk. I can explain, promise."
"Well, I mean-" At Sable's insistence that the pair leave, and the obvious agitation of the man behind the counter, Quinn nods, but rather than interrupt Sable as they walk, she remains quiet, taking the other girl arm-in-arm as they exited the store. She hadn't been offended or anything, she'd just rather know. The fact that it required explanation had rather piqued her curiosity.
They're out the door, which is locked shortly after their departure. Out in the snow again, Sable quirks her lips to the side, glancing edgewise at Quinn. Her arm gives the other girl's a small squeeze. "There's an awful lot I could, like, try and say t' give you a full picture of my slightly fucked up upstairs situation," she begins, "But I dunno that you wanna hear it, so I'll keep it short and if you wanna know, well… I can tell you the whole story if you give a shit. Basically…" she pauses, "I think you're extremely fuckin' cool, plus also a talented damn individu'l, and, I'm gonna be up front here, a total babe. Which makes you someone ideal t' know personally," she gives Quinn a smile, "But also makes you an ideal fuckin' addition to any band. You cool, skill and looks'd sell us a lot of albums, if we manage to get or shit together. But see… I have a rule. I don't get involved with bandmates. Never ends good. So, see… I can't have it both ways. And… well… that's a bitch of a decision to make."
Quinn furrows her brow, a bit of a half frown like expression on her face. "I suppose that's fair enough," she responds, looking thoughtfully ahead. "Like I said, everyone's music is their business." There's obvious tone of disappointment to her words, though she otherwise seems okay with it. "Still, I'd at least like to help if I can, even if not as a real band member. You know? Maybe?" She grins, threading hair behind her ear with her free hand. "Can I at least get you to settle on a 'we'll see'?"
Sable stops quite suddenly, and turns towards Quinn, taking her hands and looking up at her. "Hon, I'd be thrilled to sign you on in whatever way you wanna be involved. All I'm sayin' is, if you're a full member, ain't nothin' that can come of us, personally, 'cept as comrades in arms. And, well," she wrinkles her nose, "Yeah, I guess we c'n see. But right now, holdin' your hands and all… feels pretty goddamn good to me. So you can see how I'm, like, havin' a hard time with the idea of givin' you up one way, however fine it'd be to have the other." She gives a shrug, "'course, I dig if you don't see us as, like, goin' anywhere save as fellow musicians. Impossible to tell how that's gonna work out, y'know?"
Quinn nods slowly, adjusting the headphones around her neck. "We'll worry about it if it ever even matters, then?" She tone takes a bit happier tone. "It probably won't matter anyway. I might have gotten an audition while I was stuck away from home anyway. Being able to help a little may be all I can do anyway, and I fancy that's enough anyway."
Sable can't feel clearly one way or the other about this. She is disappointed, yes - Quinn seemed like a great addition, someone with the knowledge and capacity to give her band what it needed, a competitive edge, a new perspective. But the /certainty/ that she won't be denied to Sable for good and all… she can't not be relieved. After a moment's pause, the yellow eyed girl smiles, lifts her hands to Quinn's cheeks, and gets on tiptoes to kiss her right on the lips, a real kiss, not quick or stolen in passing. When she slips down again, her smile is accompanied by a cheerful squint of her eyes. "That's me tellin' you t' break a leg, hon."
Pulling Sable a bit closer, Quinn can't help but smile and laugh. "I imagine that's one of the best ways," she says, even as she lifts on hand up and ruffles the shorter girl's hair through her hat, still laughing. "Come on, what'ya say we find someone a bit less filled with snow?" It was still incredibly cold out, and Quinn had had about all she could take, and that was before having to put up with the whipping winds on the drive home.
Sable scowls at the hair ruffling, but it's belied by the smile that cannot help but blossom afterwards. She loops an arm around Quinn's waist. "Arright, sounds like a plan," she says, re-adjusting her hat, "Mebbe we can jam a bit, help you get practiced for this audition with whatever band'll be opening for me at my big shows." She tosses this last in as a tease, her smile a little wicked.
"Acoustic, maybe. The powers still not all right at my place, you know." You know… crap, Quinn had handled all the lighting the other night. She bet Sable had no idea that the power was so fleeting in her place. "I could use an excuse to practice violin, though, that was what the person I talked to seemed most interested in."
"Hon, you know I'll treat your guitar with care," Sable says, bumping the side of her hip against Quinn's lightly, "Let's do it unplugged. Didja scoot here? I sorta walked my scrawny ass all the way. Fun one way, bit I wouldn't mind a goddamn bit havin' wheels the other way?"
Quinn looks at Sable with mild shock. "Walked? Maybe you are daft," she teases. "No wonder you're soaked. Yeah, I got m' scooter. You're lucky, if I was a meaner person, I'd make you walk for my amusement."
Sable blinks, the snickers, "Arright, I'll know not to piss you off, lest I give y' some reason to /get/ mean," she taps the side of her nose, "I know how it is, I know it's in you. I never take to girls who don't have 't least bit of a mean streak."
"Well, let's hope it's never an issue." Quinn wouldn't say she has a mean streak, really. It takes a lot to break her trust, but lord help you otherwise. "was there anythin' else you wanted to see, or you think you're about ready to get on?"
"Let's get indoors," Sable says, "Light us some candles, get some music going."
Quinn grins, and nods. "Hopefully, we won't need candles. Hopefully, there's enough power for the lights to work." Or, well, she can handle it herself, for as long as she can. It should prove interesting.