Quinn

The retreating man so hardly paused to give Quinton a second glance as he hurried out of that alleyway and into the dark abyss of the street outside. Quinn, for his part, paid the fleeing henchman as equally little heed. He was not worth even the minute effort it might have taken to ...waylay him. Rather, the amber-eyed man's attention remained wholly upon the warlock left within the alleyway as he made an almost bold effort to pull himself to his feet- using that alley wall for support. The warlock was decidedly injured, any fool could surely see that. From his blood-spattered complexion, swollen face and swaying stance that gave away the damage to the rib beneath, to the way he groaned as he rose. Whatever had he done to enrage his companion into giving him a beating quite so pronounced? Had he deserved it? Or was this perhaps a simple crime of opportunity? How perplexing. The sharp, salty, near metallic scent of blood seemed to linger within the air. The smell of it was potent, heedy and yet for now Quinn continued to ignore it beyond that subtle increase of saliva and venom alike behind the confines of his lips. It was, after all, hardly hunger that spurred his interest. At least not just yet.

Rather, it was the warlock's distinct attitude to his beating that seemed more unique than most. That query as to whether or not he had deserved what he had gotten was softly uttered and yet- the warlock seemed to hear him all the same as the man chuckled. That gesture prompted him to hold his ribs as pain no doubt lanced through him for his effort. He deserved more than a beating- or so he claimed. The man was apparently a glutton for punishment. A punishment he seemed content to blame Quinton for ending too soon. A soft, near subtle snort huffed gently from Quinn's nose.

"I did nothing of the sort. I chased no one."

His words were equally soft and lacked any true emotion. They were, after all, no more than a simple statement of the truth. His feet scuffed lightly at the ground as he strode forward. Closing that distance between them with each even stride before his lips parted once more. His tone even, easy and so distinctly calm once more.

"Rather, what you witnessed was a man whose instinctive desire to survive- his need for self preservation, if you will, prompted him to choose flight over fight. His reaction is not surprising."

After all, the very vast majority of beings Quinton had ever met, at least within the last few centuries of his life, were inclined to choose flight over fight when it came to confrontation with him. Those who chose to flee could, of course, be coaxed into fighting under the right....pressure. When their very lives were at stake. That, however, was another matter entirely. Quinn's feet paused once more, his figure halted directly in front of the warlock who lent heavily agianst the wall. He was so very...fragile. So weak and broken and flimsy. SO very...prey-like. Quinn's tongue, between his lips, toyed near habitually with the point of his left fang. How easy it would be to end him entirely and yet it would be a shame to end a creature who had, for tonight at least, so managed to captivate his attention.

"What does surprise me...."

His voice seemed to trail off, as if Quinn's attention had faltered. That thought seemingly left to hang like his words within the air as he crouched ever so slightly to better view the man before him, Quinn making no move to hide his blatant examination of the warlock.

"....is your reaction. Hmmm."

His head tilted ever so slightly. Quinton, in that moment, seemed to find whatever it was he had searched for as he took a singular step back frmo the broken warlock, his own figure leaning agianst the wall, his arms folded lightly across his chest. His amber gaze, however, continued to fixate upon that warlock.

"You act as if you desire to die and yet that cannot be true. If you wished to die you would be dead already. No. It is my suggestion you merely enjoy....punishment. A punishment you yourself admitted you deserved. What is it then, that you are punishing yourself for?"

How easily that deduction came. Whether or not he was right Quinn so hardly knew and yet, perhaps it hardly mattered. That enjoyment he took from guessing at human nature with all its flaws and imperfections and obscurities was reward enough. The unfortunate warlock, it seemed, a mere source of psychological entertainment to the other man- whether or not he knew it. Quinn, for now, content to play that role of...curious, obscure bystander.