Quinn

The night was pleasant. The air was cool, refreshing and far more...scent filled then it ever appeared to be within the day. Even if the sway of the moon had long since lost its power over him, Quinton remained entirely true to his very species in that regard. The night so eternally called to him far more than the day ever would. The sound of his family's shoes was little more than the occasional click and scuff atop the neat path as they made their way down that street. Leila and himself, arm in arm, cut a near striking picture agianst the evening, while Morgan, ahead of them, perused that neighborhood with a keen eye. How much Quinn enjoyed these walks, simple as they were. The man so often reminded of the days when Morgan had been younger, mortal, and still enraptured with the world in that delightfully vapid and yet human fashion. A wanderlust that had given way to a predatory perfection as she had aged and joined the ranks of his own species. The warmth of Leila's figure agianst his own was perhaps equally as satisfying- the heat of her body so momentarily offsetting the hunger which tugged at the back of his throat like a dull and persistent ache. The scent of Leila, after all, was his eternal siren call. There was no blood finer. No blood was more perfect. Mortals of every race and creed and species so paled in comparison to his own wife and yet he was willing to make do with a lesser meal tonight- if only to preserve the perfection of her flesh. A delectable dessert for later perhaps. The family were quick to reach that junction within the street. His wife and daughter, as expected, so turned toward that city only for Quinton to gesture in the opposite direction and down a far quieter, more obscure path. There would be endless nights to explore that city. Tonight, perhaps, called for something a little less ostentatious- an evening that might allow Leila to relish in her need for revenge. A want that, Quinn had learned, was far better to allow his wife to indulge within than permit to fester.

His nod toward that far more obscure path, however, was quick to draw looks of confusion from his wife and daughter. Quinn, in turn, wholly quick to explain his intention. That Garden Center Superstore was not far from here. Easily within walking distance. It was open twenty four hours, it was perfectly secluded- and the night shift was likely to be small and unassuming. It was almost too perfect in what it offered and oh, how quick Leila was to seize upon such a moment! His wife's hands clapped together in delight. Her declaration of the magnificence of his idea coaxed a small simper to his lips as she queried whether or not they might grocery shop at the same time. His head bobbed softly.

"Yes, I think that would be splendid."

That ready agreement seemed only to delight Leila all the more. Morgan's bright gaze, however, had fixed upon him in a fashion almost suspicious. The younger vampire eyed him with wariness before questioning just how he had known that the Garden Store existed. It was rare, in any sense, for Quinn to master any modicum of technology and yet- the vampire was very near proud of his efforts to embrace the internet. His words cut short Morgan's own as he proudly insisted that, he too, was capable of using The Google. Quinton's pride in his use of that technology was decidedly clear, even if short-lived as Morgan insisted that it was not called 'The Google' but rather just 'google'. That lack of proper verbage only seemed to prompt a frown to the man's features. Just google? That did not seem correct. In fact, that seemed in violation of several English grammatical rules. Morgan's eye roll was equally as potent. A soft snort escaped his nose in response.

"I still think it's called The Google."

His words were little more than a soft utterance, one he knew was likely to be ignored and yet that frown of contemplation lingered upon his features for some moments longer as they strode into the carpark of the superstore. That lot, illuminated by a series of lights, was very near empty save for a scattering of staff cars and perhaps two or three other customer cars. Just as Quinn had anticipated. Morgan's gaze shifted back towards him then, the young vampire pivoting neatly in place as they walked to query whether or not they were overdressed for fertilizer.

"Oh, I don't think so. They are often far less inclined to suspect the well dressed, after all."

It was so often the poorly dressed, the homeless, the ones who looked 'desperate' or 'crazy' or 'violent' who were suspected. It was an age old flaw within the human psyche and yet one the vampire was content to exploit as he had done for centuries. It was a delicate balance not to appear so well-dressed as to stand out, while appearing just enough above those around them as to avoid suspicion of such commonplace crimes as...a little murder. Morgan, perhaps, could be inclined to flamboyance at times and yet she was young still. Her aesthetic showmanship was a distinct trait of her being. Much as Quinn's impenetrable calm so tended to be his own. Leila was quick to take command of the evening then. The Fae woman becoming businesslike within a matter of moments. Their 'hunt' is a veritably polished art and one Quinn knew she would not fail at. Leila had, after all, always been a distinctly...capable provider. Her insistence that she would meet them in the garden section was met with a soft nod. Leila asked Morgan to find some porch chairs, in boxes, before she strode off and into that store.

"Come, Morgan. Don't wander."

Such words, perhaps, were hardly needed upon a girl her age. Morgan was no longer a toddler in any sense and yet those parenting habits, it seemed, were inclined to die hard as Quinn moved to take a trolley from the line. The vampire casually beginning to push it towards the garden section. The lights within that store felt almost overly harsh, their brightness prompting him to squint ever so slightly as the overly cheery, elevator style music played softly from the speakers above. How very....human. The wheels of that trolley squeaked down the aisle as Quinn lent upon the handle bar, the vampire appearing every bit the mortal man as he strolled leisurely through that store, past homewares and outdoor supplies and pet care needs before, at last, wheeling that trolley into the garden department and the aisle that sold the very porch chairs Leila had mentioned. Hmmm. The scent of....fake grass was almost overly strong here. Quinn moved to position that trolley just beneath those boxed chairs that lined the shelf above, the sound of Leila's voice rung musically within his ears. The addition of another heartbeat so readily assuring him his wife had been successful in her task.

"Morgan, hold the trolley will you. Just there."

Why Quinn wanted that trolley held 'just there' remained to be seen. The vampire moved to turn his attention to the boxes of chairs above, as if to eye them critically, just as Leila rounded that corner with a staff member in tow. Any alarm that unfortunate being felt at Quinn's presence was easily alleviated with a warm smile, Quinn gesturing to those chairs upon the top shelf.

"Ah, these are the ones my wife is interested in. Could you get one down for us please? We'd like to have a closer look. I'd get it myself but I hurt my back on my last tour in Afghanistan."

The man was quick to nod before insisting there was a discount for veterans. He turned toward that shelf before stepping up and onto a step stool in an effort to reach those higher items. His back placed precariously towards the waiting predators. Quinn offered a singular glance toward Leila, his wife already assured of her role in watching out for any other employees who might wander into the center before a single, violet display of speed saw Quinn's hand seize the man by the back of the neck. Barely a yelp was uttered from his unfortunate victim before a sudden, sharp twist and pull, followed by a distinct 'popping' sound, heralded the snapping of the man's spinal cord. An instant, bloodless death. That body, much as Quinn had anticipated, tumbled back and into the shopping cart Morgan held. Quinn's gaze, for several moments, lingered almost curiously upon his victim- as if searching for....something upon the man's face before, silently, Quinn reached to peel the barcode off the nearest box. Only to stick it silently and unceremoniously across the victim's forehead.
"It's a two for one deal."

The faintest of simpers tugged at his lips. That distinctly macabre sense of humor, at last, daring to poke beneath the surface of his facade.