Quinn

How readily he should have known that Leila's fascination with that outdoor set was surely coaxed into fruition by just how jealous it might make their human neighbors. Leila, Quinn was certain, was the very image of faultless perfection and yet, perhaps, if he might have been pressed upon to detail but one feature of her being that was prone to baffle him it was surely her utter desire to outdo their neighbors no manner the house or town or country in which they resided. Furniture and decor and presentation mattered to Leila. Her showmanship in that very thing was second to none and indeed, Quinn could hardly argue agianst it. Not when her obsession for all things fine had, more than once, allowed them to assimilate so flawlessly into the world around them. Leila's constant need to best those around her had a way of drawing people to her, either because they desired to attempt to better her, or because they desired to be like her. It was a curious habit. One the vampire was certain he might never understand. Quinn assured he might have been happy wearing the exact ame outfit every day of his life if permitted and yet, of course, leila would never allow it. Her eye for detail had made them veritable pillars of society. A trait he was certain had been passed onto their daughter in one way or another.Morgan equally prone to be particular. Even if not in quite the same way. Still- she seemed well versed in that outdoor furniture, even proclaiming that it was akin to sitting on a Cloud. A notion Quinn found difficult to believe as one eye raised skeptically.

"Then I shall try it when we return home. If it is not cloud-like I will be sorely disappointed."

A faint hint of amusement seemed to find his near golden gaze before Leila returned from her quest to acquire further editions for their collection. His wife never failed in her task to allure as she made her way back towards them with two more workers in two. Quinton glanced briefly toward his daughter then, uttering that permission for her to dispatch one of those victims as she saw fit. Family or not their hierarchy remained entirely unyielding. Vampiric nature required it. Those victims were his alone- unless he chose to share them. Quinn offered Morgan that chance to indulge her own instinct after he had taken his pick. The young female easily captured his attention as he waylaid her efforts to procure a shelf stacker with the notion he required assistance in selecting paint. The vampire, for now, wholly oblivious to the young woman's bright smile and fluttering lashes- along with the darkened look Leila offered her in turn. Quinn, after all, had long ago ceased to seek the attention of other women. Leila and Morgan alone were all that mattered.

The young woman, his unfortunate second victim for the night, was as easy to dispatch as her coworker. A quick, painless, bloodless death. One that hardly spoke to those deeper, more vampiric desires and yet there would be time later to enjoy those predatory urges. Here and now required he retain that role of 'human man shopping' that he had undertaken the moment they had walked within the store. A role Quinn was assured he had performed faultlessly before. The vampire waited for several moments longer, affording Morgan both the opportunity and privacy to carry out her own kill. After all, she was hardly a child anymore. She no longer needed him to guide her hand to the throat of a victim as she once had. He trusted her to do her job. The sudden absence of the boy's heart beat prompted Quinn to stride back around that corner, his own victim tossed over his shoulder, several of those paint swatches within his hand. How readily the Belgian was sure the colour white had become consumerism. After all, white only existed as one shade- of that he was certain. Yet each of those whites claimed to be vastly different from the next. How prone he was to discussing the ills of society with anyone inclined to listen. A veritable trap his family knew all too well. Morgan's near exaggerated answer gave way to her years of experience upon the manner of listening to what she had long since dubbed her Father's 'tirades'.

Quinn's features frowned readily at his daughter's insistence the whites were in fact different, his gaze eyeing them once more before turning them around to show Leila as his wife emerged from the box she had busied herself within- rifling through the belongings of the dead man within. It was the amount of yellow, Leila insisted- or the amount of blue- those resulting in apparently varying shades.

"My vision is better than yours and I'm certain all of these are exactly the same. Although maybe this one is darker. Maybe I need to look at them in the dark...."

Vampire vision, after all, was better in the dark. Perhaps then he would see these yellows and blues his wife and daughter were convinced existed in white. Leila pivoted neatly upon her feet, holding her hand out for the keys Morgan had pilfered from her own victim, Quinn momentarily eyeing the strangled man.

"Very nice, I heard nothing until his heart stopped."

He offered that simple praise. Pleased with his daughter's work as a simper found his lips. How utterly and gloriously....innocent Morgan appeared. The perfect siren. Just as she had been raised to be. Leila was insistent upon the need for another cart, sending Morgan to find a flatbed.

"Leave the boy there, Morgan. I'll put him in the box."

Quinn offered as his doll-like daughter saw to retrieving that required cart. Quinn moved to pick up that discarded body before proceeding to find room for him within the already half-filled box. The woman on his own shoulder somewhat neatly folded into position a moment later. That box was starting to look perhaps a little misshapen. Bodies, after all, were not the most...pliable of material. Still, he supposed, it would do. Leila's near singsong voice reached him then, the vampire turning to face his wife- her head tilted downward in a manner he had long since come to recognise as her effort to appear endearing. Normally when she desired something she feared he would say no too. A patio set. A near exaggerated sigh parted his lips then. Quinn was certain he had never denied his wife anything she had desired in all the centuries they had been married and yet, still, it was surely his husbandly duty to at least display some measure of discord.

"...and how much is it costing me to have our patio be made less dull, darling?"

His gaze lifted in question. Leila, as usual, likely disregarded that price entirely. His wife's command to grab the cart was met with a good natured roll of his eyes, the vampire moving to do as asked,falling into step behind the fae as she all but danced along in front of him. Her mind apparently ensnared with a newfound need for paint. Fortunately not white. Burgundy so apparently her newest desire.

"I liked that house as well. I don't remember it being Burgundy though. Although it seems my eyes have been misleading me about the color white for eight hundred years- it's entirely possible I've been equally misinformed in regards to Burgundy too. What about blue? I find blue soothing- and it was the colour of the walls in that little place we stayed for our honeymoon ...."

Both eyebrows lifted upward then, his words clearly teasing, a deep, throaty chuckle humming within his throat before he glanced sideways, perusing that store lightly. That look of amusement finding his features once more as he trailed after his wife with that cart.

"Where has Morgan gotten to? Perhaps we should discuss our honeymoon again in more detail- the sounds of her gagging will surely give away her location..."