Soulmates. The topic was dredged up and placed before her so gently like freshly picked meadow flowers, so innocent and yet its presence was somehow highly offensive. The leather-clad seductress, hardly looked the type to entertain such foolish notions. Nor was it a topic she ever thought to approach at her bar with a gentleman stranger no less. Did she believe in a thing such as soulmates? Of course not. What kind of arrowed question was that? The very word was enough to bring a scoff to her lips. Surely, he was joking. That she would ever believe in such a figment sculpted by fantasy. The vampire queen claimed that much, dismissing such a preposterous thought like it was lint on the pristine dress she wore, if only it left like it too. Her reply was spoken much too quickly, that accusation was met with a simple response that Quinn did not jest. That made two of them, certainly not with this. Yet it hardly made his words any less ridiculous to the feline queen, a meddling irritation. A lingering one.

"Nor am I, Quinton." She concluded crisply. Perhaps it was his way all along. A silent mocking, in the way their kind so often attempted to try and probe and find weaknesses. How he spoke with such assurance and yet Risque so did she. It was quite clear that while they may have shared a few core beliefs, their experiences drastically differed when it came to this. A small almost knowing smile played across the other vampire's features at her own suggestion that such a thing was truly a myth.

His own question offered in return as she drew her tea to her stained Bordeaux-hued lips. The gentleman vampire claimed he was not one to jest and yet that question he posed was undoubtedly a joke. One she didn't comprehend at all. What was a fairy dentist? If he was attempting to make a point and it was lost on her. Yet his following statement required even more patience. What he believed she did not truly believe was apparently love at first sight. Her jaw ticked as her gaze narrowed, pivoting her head to face him fully.

"They would be called a dentist, Quinton. What is the point you are trying to make? Or the relevance of what I do and do not believe." She responded with a flash of impatience and irritation just beginning to peek its way through her words.

What did he know of it and of her? With only a few casual remarks. Yet why did it settle uncomfortably beneath her skin as if it held spikes? He did not truly know her, nor Darcy, especially upon one mere glance into the elaborate intricacies of their world. It had been, what felt like countless lifetimes when the notion of such childish fancies did not bring a scowl to her trained features. His only saving grace was there was no hint of mocking in his tone, no trace of intolerable teasing within his words.

It was far too easy to dismiss that topic in exchange for another. It was at the very least far more tangible a shift than destined lovers written in the stars.

The topic of sex was hardly taboo for her, yet she was entirely private as to the details and even more so with relationships. What was between her and her lover was just that. What others did was of no concern of her own. Yet she could not deny that she wasn't at least a little curious about that interspecies marriage. It was rare to speak with someone of any semblance of decided worthiness on that topic. There were so few couples that lasted longer than a decade or two. Let alone ones that chose to marry for centuries. Mary Beth was hardly anyone whose opinion she valued, lesser in business and not even a fragment when it had come to a conversation of substance. Yet her own fickle nature made it near impossible to broach. This was decidedly, new territory. All of it was.

The pair soon drifted away from that topic as he poetically delved into his thoughts on marriage. He sounded like a writer, a poet with his romantic notions of love. How had a man after so long still clung to them, she could hardly comprehend. He was a poet, that much he admitted and seemed proud of. That his only reader was his wife. That revelation did not do any favours to him if he were a good one. "How... romantic." For that was what she had gathered from him. What he was. An old, well-dressed, well-spoken romantic. How they could not be any more different.

The conversation once more drifted to the mate-bond, Risque hardly certain how that even worked between species. If such a thing was even possible. Perhaps that why they married, to forge it with religious ritual instead. Cross-species relationships were still predominantly a rarity, not a rule with their kind. In fact, between vampires, so few even lasted due to the incompatibility between them and... of course, death. From the mere strength and possessive nature alone. The other vampire shook his head before he spoke in that all too gentle-tone that rivalled the loudness of that club. But it was his words that saw something within her switch, her spine growing rigid. Those words were daring and he was far too intelligent to know that such a thing was a slight.

"If not moreso? You even said so yourself, you do not know, then you wish to claim yours to be more. I fail to see your reason, beyond your own bias. Nor do I see how you can know when our experiences are entirely incomparable." Why she had been so quick to defend that she hardly knew and yet she did. His words spurred something almost akin to competitiveness. How dare he compare the two! How she refused to believe such nonsense. 'Moreso.'

It was then the topic shifted to the vague conversation of sex. Yet it would seem he was just as private in his personal life as she was. Yet how society could not yet handle a sexually confident woman, it would seem Quinn did not quite falter as thought.

"At least in that, we can agree. Even though that does little to the fact that most men have not evolved much from 600 years ago." Yet, how that topic prior seemed to prevail in her mind, a veritable thorn remaining buried within her side. Perhaps it was something she should have allowed to stay buried in the dark and yet she did not. His golden gaze met her own pale, hypnotic pale blue eyes. How rare it was that beings so looked at her in the eye so casually. He easily delved into the depths of that conversation like it was simple. Perhaps that also irritated the vampire queen too. Risque inquired about its true definition. It shouldn't have mattered. She should have left that particular conversation in the dust, given it no further thought. It hardly phased him as he drew his tea to his lips, slowly drinking it as if he savoured every last drop like it was wine.

He then posed the question of how many people had she met that was compatible with her in every way. A soft frown marred her once perfectly smooth, fine porcelain features. Such a question she felt was strictly rhetorical. The answer was simple. She would not refute it, which only alluded to how her opinions had changed. His own admittance followed shortly after that he believed in them, that he had seen a great deal in this world to suggest it to be real. It was an unabashed declaration. Only one being truly mattered to him in this world. Only one of the countless people he had met. His fairy wife was his soulmate. Of that, he was so very certain. There was no mocking in that plain revelation, only that truth of what he believed to be true. She fell silent, considering that definition and his conviction. What would he own mate say on the matter? Certainly, he would find some humour in this. If only the ancient vampire had ended it there. He gestured toward Darcy, that look that directed her own fathomless gaze to the man upon the balcony who strained to draw as close as possible without falling off of it. It was like they caught him in the act and yet Quinton's golden gaze did not linger for long before they returned calmly to her own.

He asked her about soulmates because she spoke of Darcy like he was hers. He seemed so infuriatingly calm and free of vitriolic barbs for what he accused her of. The audacity of him to make such judgements. She said nothing of the sort. Even despite his definition had aligned with her own words almost irrefutably.

Her hand that held her suspended teacup clenched in time with her jaw as the tea cup all but shattered, hot liquid spilling out over the countertop and splashed upon her hand that she ignored its burning sting that would not last long. She had wanted nothing more than to strike him. She had sent Darcy away for 'his' lack of control and then it was she slipped all while Quinn remained so infuriatingly calm. How she desired nothing more to slap him, for surely, he desired for a rise. "He is my mate, of course, we are compatible. You want to claim that he is a part of my soul? I can assure you that I have lost that very long ago, many times over. Your ideology is flawed, hinging upon something that cannot exist." Irritation peaked and flooded through her as she challenged his very words.

"You seek to prove me wrong? Then show me proof and not just some pretty words. Just because it is true to your circumstances does not mean it is for the rest. Actions alone and tangibility rule out over emotion every time. Sooner or later they betray us all." She dropped the shattered porcelain cup that partially remained in her hand, letting the fragile broken china fall and break apart further. Would Darcy be amongst the many? Or was that the point Quinton had made? That they were different... ah, but was she ready to admit that? Could she? Her accented voice seemed to linger in the air and yet the narrowed gaze did not falter. Perhaps she shouldn't have bothered with words because he was likely to not have any retort. Risque was certain she should have stuck him instead.

"Bring me wine." She shifted, her commanding voice slicing through the din to her bartender.