Quinn

The vampiric woman who had found her way to his side was a fascinating creature. In far more ways than merely one. She was the very epitome of their kind. From her sensual figure, to her seductive clothing, to the distinct French lilt that embraced her words with silken ease. She was a siren, a lure, a being designed to bring her victims to her and oh, how certain Quinn was such a woman as this would not struggle to lure man after man to his death should she choose it. Yet too, it would seem, her own reputation precedes her. Those beings that littered the bar, vampire and human alike, were quick to offer her space in the same way as they did himself. This was undoubtedly her territory, her kingdom. Quinn, in that moment, perceived as a veritable interloper and yet how surely he intended to be no more than a passing tourist. Anything else was far too much...effort. His own utterance within that French tongue so readily seemed to intrigue his femanine companion further, that flash of surprise within her gaze was hardly missed as she settled the vibrant blue of eyes upon him- her own lips parting to utter those French lyrics with flawless precision. She was surely a native of the very country. How pleasing to find another European. Her words prompted a soft dip of his head once more. Her very suggestion he had read more than merely that paper however so managed to coax a fleeting simper to his lips. Quinn, yet again, offered that polite and yet calm incline of his head. Those French words again brushing his tongue.

"Oui. C'est la voie de notre espèce, non?" (Yes, it is the way of our kind, no?")

There was little need to deny what was so obviously true and yet, by equal measure, Quinn was near certain it was simply a habit of vampire nature to read the room in its entirety. To assess who was prey and who was predator, to find intrigue in anomaly or cast aside that plethora of information their senses afforded them even in the most mundane of situations. It was however, so hardly that room itself that had captured Quinton's attention. A multitude of vampires and humans alike so hardly yielded his curiosity. Rather, it was a singular vampire outside of the woman herself who had garnered a tendril more of his notice. The man with the mismatched eyes. He was young, undoubtedly so and yet he bore an intensity unlike any other within that room. The woman's scent marked him more proficient than any other, assuring Quinn of the very status of their relationship with little more than a cursory glance. How intriguing that one so aged as she might take a mate who held but a fraction of her power and yet.....that man was of a rare species. A species that, until now, Quinn had believed incapable of integration into any society. Hmmm. There was much to be curious of her. The vampiric woman's own head nodded, her silken words insisting that her mate was indeed attentive. Her words were nothing but true and yet cautious in what they chose to reveal. How understandable. She was well practiced in vampiric conversation. In that inevitable to and fro of information that often seemed to be a war between who could reveal the least while saying the most. Perhaps, once, he might have engaged in such political speech and yet, how certain he was he cared not for such things tonight.

His golden gaze shifted from the man with the curious eyes and to the hand of the woman beside him. That query upon her status of marriage so confirmed by a single glance at her slender, manicured fingers. She lacked a wedding ring- for now. Her hand slipped neatly from that table and back toward her side, her words offering what his eyes had already discovered. Her tone held within it a note more terse and yet Quinn's own voice held no more than the calm placidity it so often did. His tone so complementing his near lazy, relaxed demeanor as his own words fell with open and tendrilled humor from his lips. An explanation as to exactly why he persisted within that bar. How dearly he loved his family and yet how certain he was he required but even one night away from his wifes interior decoration and his daughters attempts to turn their home into a concert hall of music that appealed to a very specific and emotional age group he had long since parted ways from. The woman beside him remained near placid in turn. Her company an agreeable thing and, perhaps, of more intrigue then his newspaper as she queried his thoughts upon marriage. Why did he believe she would marry? Ah, but he had lived so long and seen it so very often. A near knowing simper so finding his lips as he nodded toward her mate.

"It is the very difference in age between you that inclines me to believe that, one day, you might marry him. You are vastly older than him, in the many centuries of your life you have not, I suspect, taken a mate until now- because until that man you had never considered a mate, let alone marriage. Our kind does not mate nor marry on a mere whim- until him I suspect you had found none worthy of it. Or of you."

Quinn's words were nothing short of soft once more and yet they hald little save a simplistic honesty in an observation made. An opinion formed over very near a thousand years of life and more than a multitude of chances to observe those around him and the faint intricacies of their relationships. The woman beside him had waited centuries without marrying. By that notion alone she was waiting for something, or someone, unlike any who had come before. Perhaps that man with the mismatched eyes was truly the one she had waited for. That momentary pause between them so hardly lasted long as the felinesque woman queried his own domestic bliss- one that she assured him lingered far from her own less traditional tastes. Hmm. How curious a woman and yet, it was only fair she might ask her questions in turn. Her query of his tolerating that 'terrible' music so managing to return that simper to his lips. Perhaps she too had heard the musical stylings of Fallout Boy and decided agianst them and their ear-splitting wailing. Her query upon his marriage was met with a nod in turn.

"Yes, I have been married for many centuries, to the same woman. Though she is not a vampire."

Quinn's own lip quirked once more, his golden gaze meeting the vibrancy his his companions as that humor again touched his words.

"I am perhaps not so traditional as I appear in that regard."

A soft chuckled hummed within the depths of his throat. His words were as lacnoic and easy as his actions as he continued to respond to that very query.

"As for my stumbling upon such a domestic life I believe I did not stumble so much as I was lured by my wife and her very slow efforts to integrate me into domestication. I blame her entirely for the tame creature I have become."

Those very words were offered with a notable affection, despite the tease that lingered within them and the soft chuckle that followed. Quinn's lips were once more inclined to lift upward in a smile, one that, this time, betrayed the impressive length of those canine fangs beneath. As if that very flash of teeth so hinted at more beneath that vial of 'domestication' the vampire insisted he possessed. There was, however, still very much that manner of his presence here that remained to be solved. It was the veritable preamble that hung over them both, after all, the reason behind her appearance at his side even if neither of them had addressed it. Quinn, in that moment, wholly content to cast aside whatever concerns she might hold over his presence upon her territory. She was an intriguing being, her conversation was apt and yet curious. He was far more interested in merely speaking with her then seeking to brawl over the lines of her territory. That conversation should flow more easily with such understated tensions removed. He wished for nothing from her tonight, nor did he hold designs upon what was her own.

His near blunt and yet wholly honest words were met with much the same in return, the vampiric woman insisting that she, in turn, held no quarrel with him nor his desire to continue to read. Her mate too, she insisted, would not overstep that line despite his protectiveness.

"Then I am content."

That promise of peace so seemed to soothe both vampires into a ready placidity once more as Quinn's gaze flickered again to the man with the unusual eyes. His query, this time, on why she had chosen a mate so young- was he truly the one she had waited so long for? The vampiric woman, her blue black hair falling like a cascade down her femanine figure, seemed to consider that query for the briefest of moments before insisting there was far more to her mate then met the eye. Ah, a pun.

"Astucieux." (Clever)

She was a sharp woman, and a shrewd one at that. How he had anticipated little else from a vampire so aged and yet her company was pleasant. Agreeable. Peaceful. That wholly subtle exchange between the woman and her mate was distinctly silent and yet wholly effective, it would seem. The southern vampire sent upward to the verandah above with little more than a singular command from his mate. Hmmm. He was...well trained. How fascinating. Quinns gaze so hardly lingered long upon the retreating man, his attention instea returned to the woman beside him as she insisted that need for introduction. Risque- and her mate, Darcy. Syn was her territory, as well as much of its surroundings. A sizable land claim.

"It is a pleasure, Risque. I am Quinton, though Quinn will suffice. I hold no territory in this city. My lands remain in Belgium. I am merely passing through."

Those formalities were a simple affair, one Risque seemed eager to move beyond in turn as she offered that suggestion of a drink. Along with that insistence she had,of late, lacked mature company. How well he understood such feelings.

"Do you have tea? I would prefer it over alcohol. I enjoy its warmth. Mature company though, is rare these days. There is not another vampire, other than ourselves, over the age of three hundred in this bar. They say it is because the hunter's grow more proficient though such a thing is merely...propaganda. It is because the human race grows more....stupid- and we are left with fewer and fewer choices for our progeny. Our race has suffered of late."

There was little need to speak in riddles as the vampire kind so often did. Risque had shown a preference for mature company. The kind Quinton had lacked in turn. How sorely he did not intend to waste an opportunity to indulge in tea and conversation with another of his kind who offered intelligent companionship.

"As for my speaking French, I was born in Belgium, on the border between the half that speaks Dutch and the half that speaks French. Dutch is my native tongue but I have spoken French since I was a child."

Those very words maintained that same gentle, lazy ease. Quinton was a distinctly un-hurried individual in every sense.

"What is it about my married life you desire to know? Although in turn I would ask again of your mate. I have lived a long time, I have seen many things- but I have never seen a Ravager vampire with any shred of control. I was told it was impossible. How did you achieve that?"