Quinn

Morgan's insistence that she could handle 'one little body' prompted Quinn's lips to part once more, the man content to insist that her ability to handle that body was hardly the point, so much as the simple societal convention that such a thing was not done. Those very words however, so hardly managed to do more than form within his throat as Morgan was all-too quick to call him out upon his reluctance to deal with that flat pack chair that required building. The vampire's features frowned ever so slightly as his golden gaze shifted toward his daughter. Morgan boldly declared that building was surely a man's job.

"But you're so good at it, Darling. Besides, women's liberation and all that."

Ah, how well it suited him to champion the cause of women in non-traditional roles when those very roles were ones he was loath to take on himself. Morgan, he knew, was far too bright to fall for such honeyed words and yet- she set about that task of constructing the chair all the same. She had a mind for such things. Her thoughts inclined to a methodical sort of precision that perhaps bordered upon the obsessive and yet- such a process of thought had served them well over the years. Morgan was careful, precise and prone to a depth of consideration that made her a veritable asset in more ways than one. Chair construction was so merely one of her talents. Quinn's attention returned then to his own task. The manner of packing a body in a box not wholly designed for such an endeavor. The vampire's head tilted slightly in consideration, the Belgian considering how best the man's limbs might be placed for efficient packing. Hmmm. He would surely need to be quick about it. Bodies so had a habit of becoming irritatingly stiff if not maneuvered into their desired position soon after death.

Quinn moved to lay that box upon the ground, the man retrieving that body, before beginning to slide their meal, feet first, into his new packaging. How thankful the fellow was not terribly tall. Even by modern standards. Morgan, meanwhile, had managed to construct something vaguely resembling a chair. Quinn certain he would hardly have achieved the same level of success unless he forcibly bent the poles together to construct a chair of his own making. A method he had resorted to on several occasions before. The vampire reached forward to grab hold of the box, his free hand continuing to push the body within. The box unhelpfully attempted to slide away as he did. Prompting a soft grunt of frustration. Morgan's query on just how his project was going saw the Belgian glance upward to spy his daughter seated within her newly constructed chair in a manner that boarded dangerously upon mocking. His features frowned once more, offering her a near dubious look and yet- she had done exactly what was asked of her.

"Your project had more parts but mine is a little more...cumbersome. I am nearly there though."

Quinn moved to, finally, push that body fully into the box with a huff of indignation before sealing the top once more. There. That box appeared entirely inconspicuous and wholly innocent. The vampire so momentarily eyed his work before glancing toward Morgan once more as she reclined within her newly built chair.

"Do I dare ask why this is the one your Mother wanted? Did it feature on one of those renovations shows recently?"

Leila, Quinn had noticed, so tended to have a desire for the newest and most modern of designs. Decorating is by far one of her favored activities. Even if Quinn so often failed to understand its allure. Leila so often content to inform him of his inability to appreciate a balanced color palette. The sound of Leila's voice, at that moment, seemed to ring down the very aisles of that store. Ah, excellent. She had clearly secured her prize. Quinn moved to lift that box back up and into the shopping cart. The vampire was already aware that Leila had procured at least two more victims. The sounds of their hearts beating with rhythmic ease prompting that hunger to tug at him once more.

"You may deal with one, Morgan."

It would be decidedly unfair, after all, to deny his daughter that chance to make her own kill tonight when their very kind took such delight in the activity. How Morgan dealt with her victim was entirely up to her. Quinn was almost curious of her method of choice as his arms folded across his chest- an easy smile finding his features as Leila strode into the aisle with her two 'helpers'. His wife gestured toward those boxes higher up that she apparently desired, the two workers contemplating just how they might get them down before the young woman suggested she would get the shelf lifter- the machine so apparently parked only a few aisles over.

"Perhaps I could ask you about paint while you fetch it- I have a question about one of the colors I saw in the paint aise."

Quinn moved to fall into step beside her as she chatted happily away, leading them both into the aisle next door where those paint swatches littered the walls like an assaulting rainbow. The vampire certain several of those colors were, in fact, identical. How many types of white truly existed? It took barely a moment to end that woman in the same fashion as he had her unfortunate coworker moments before. Her neck snapped with a quick and bloodless efficiency. Quinn easily moved to hoist her body upward and over his shoulder, the vampire waiting only until he was certain Morgan had dispatched the other in turn before he strode back around that corner. Several of those paints cards in hand,the body thrown over his shoulder like a rag doll. Quinn moved to hold those card samples up then.

"Do either of you truly see a difference between Milk White, Cloud White, Linen White and Snow? I refuse to believe these are different shades of the very same color. In fact, I argue white does not possess more than one shade. Has consumerism truly pressed us this far? Has society become deluded by white?"

How very prone he was to speak of the ills of society when given even the slightest chance....