"Let's start with more scotch, or bourbon, tell me the freaky ghost thing isn't in here is he?" Getting out of the bed it was strange to see he was actually wearing pants. Fingernails grazed the flesh beneath his navel and assaulted it with heavy scratching as he made his way to the bathroom. Door was left open while he spoke. "WD-40, nylon rope, zipties, ducktape, and some of those things..." He was rolling his hand in the air thinking. "Bullets...yeah some of those."

Shaking and tucking away he walked out of the bathroom and peeked in where Dave should be, and wasn't. "This place would have been a lot bigger if you had picked the one without the heated human milkshake machine." Quinn was not a fan of jacuzzis clearly and he was stumbling about trying to find his watch, which, was still on his wrist, and his cuff, which was on his other wrist.

Figuring fuck it, he picked up a shirt and sniffed at it, it wasn't too terrible so he pulled it on over his head. "We gotta get the Rabies Baby, or plural, I don't know, I guess we will find out when we get there, but we are going to make things, not alive." A bottle of vodka swiped from the freezer in passing and he was looking for keys.

Saila shrugged. She was not wearing pants, and after Quinn headed for the bathroom the long legged girl would peel herself out of the bed, trading her pajama shorts for a fresh pair of black jeans. The girl checked her phone, shot a quick text back, and then she was padding over to the little closet, finding herself a shirt.

"The jacuzzi wasn't my idea, dude. You were having a nostalgic moment about the one at Keirra's old apartment?" This was called back over her shoulder as the girl shucked her (actually, probably his) tshirt, put on a new bra and went hunting for a shirt. Her skin was practically fluorescing, so it was for the best that Dave wasn't in the immediate vicinity.

Well. Depending on your definition of 'for the best', anyway.

Redressed, the girl went to one of her cabinets and started pulling out the items Quinn wanted, pretty much all of which were loaded into the bag she slung over her shoulder as soon as she'd finished feeding her little pet. Rather than fucking with a brush, the girl pulled waist length tresses up into a knot at the crown of her head and used a set of chopsticks to secure it.

About that time she veered into the bathroom, pulling the keys out of their most recent hiding place. Why? Because Quinn was in no condition to drive. "Got everything but the booze and also the keys. Ready?"

Ohh a sixer. Didn't get those very often. And... what was that annoying sound?

"What?" He looked up from his phone to the prostitute who tapped her cigarette and repeated her offer of a good time for him. Amare's eyes rolled and he stepped back to the alley, grabbing his trash bag and hauling it over his shoulder. It wasn't heavy, but the heads of a hundred barbie dolls seemed like they should still have use somewhere. Glued to something. Oh! Glued to something of Quinn's. That really would be the best. Maybe all the way around the steering wheel of his car or on the lid of his toilet so there would be a whole audience every time he went to take a piss. At least twenty accommodating smiled from the barbie heads could fit there, angled up at him.

Oh good, Amare wanted to die already.

Quinn was looking back at Saila and fucking with the cap to the vodka, cheap, shitty, vodka, oh Ko, how we love you. Tipping it against his lips he looked down and realized he was barefoot. Shoes. He slid into the back and grey checkered Vans and stumbled down the steps not because of his non sobriety, but because he was used to a step less. The lycan got red in the face and cursed as he looked to where his home had once been. "I am moving this RV there. I don't fucking like it here." As if that was just it. With her shit, best to just pat him on the head and move on though. "Or we could all move to the piece of property on the lake, wait, FUCKING TEXT MESSAGE."

The bottle was thrown and shattered against the ground where his and Levi's camper had been before he cursed some more in portugese and got into the truck. Apparently he wasn't taking this very well. Pitting he and Amare against anything innocent would be a bad idea.

Saila just kinda... stared after him. She did a quick visual sweep of the camp, mostly to locate Mark. She considered, not for the first time since this little binge started, whether it might not be safer to relocate to their very favorite room at the Inn. Granted, Quinn was supposed to be in charge of Dave, but ... Dave wasn't a danger to anybody but Ian, just at present, and Ian didn't seem like he much cared one way or the other. She half expected Mark to come out of the shadows with that look on his face, the disapproving one that made him seem more like a dad than any of her other so called authority figures and mentors. "Easy, Big Bad," Saila murmured. "Let's not piss off the Gypsy King."

Her second sweep was to locate Dave and then Ian, actually. The two could kill each other if they needed to but she'd prefer they did it somewhere else where she could claim she hadn't seen or known about it. Ian appeared to be with Mark, and Dave was... out of range. Distantly it occurred to her that was probably a bad thing, but the teen had much bigger problems at present. Largely six feet six inches of intoxicated, angry alpha wolf.

The final sweep as she moved towards the truck was for Mac. Because the ghost couldn't hurt anybody, but she still liked to know where it was.

Mac was in Mark's RV, because that was where Ian was. He had a lot of anger towards Ian. For shit being fucked up and wrong and it was easy for Mac to take all of that out on Ian because the kid's guilt was so ripe that it let him do that. Mark, for better or worse, was holding onto Grace and keeping her near so she wouldn't float away.

"Heyyyy honey, you sure you don't want a good time?"

Amare rolled his eyes and looked at the prostitute, "Seriously, what the fuck? Is this a slow goddamn night or what?" He pocketed his candy crush, turning to look at her, "How much would it cost me to have you make out with that homeless guy? I mean, really give it to him all the way. Just look beyond the rotting teach and meth addiction and plant your vag on his face and see what happens." His method of conflict resolution might have explained a lot. The prostitute gave him an eat-shit look and flicked her cigarette, looking away as if he'd said nothing.

"Nao me dizes para ser facil." Eyes on Saila, telling her not to tell him to take it easy. Anger wasn't pleasant on Quinn and the quills were raised higher than nornal since he was dealing with an angry wolf and a self loathing one, who was probably rotting in jail somewhere. Quinn wasn't sure what was up with Amare and Dirk, Levi would have been the one to tell him that. And he was NOT speaking to Levi who had just up and taken off on him without so much as inviting him to come along, as far as Quinn was concerned Levi could lick his foot for all he cared. There was grumbling and groaning and when Saila came to the truck he turned on the radio. Because apparently there were two teenagers in this truck, soon to be three, and two of them petulant and pissy.

Saila made a face. "...You do realize that Mark's going to find a way to decide that this is my fault, right?" The girl grumbled under her breath - not like Quinn couldn't hear her whether she said it out loud or not - as she climbed into the driver's side.

Fitting the keys into the ignition, the purple girl slid her hands over the wheel of the truck. She'd been driving muscle cars --and the hearse -- more than any other car here lately, and she wanted a second to adjust her focus before she put it in gear. Centered, the actual teenager put her seat belt on, checked her mirrors and then headed out of the parking area for the road that would lead them to town. "Where is Rabid Baby, anyway?"

"No, I don't know that. I haven't ever..." He shrugged and looked around before just shutting his mouth, he was guessing no one needed to know about that. The words were a little silly sounding around the loli and he laughed flipping on the radio. Something silly was on and he smiled happily. Yes, bad pop music, go ahead, try and tell him he had to change it. Dare ya.

Channnggeeee itttt.

Saila gestured at Quinn without taking her eyes off the road. She wanted him to peel the plastic off the sucker while she drove. The muse had a destination in mind already, a place she'd noted on one of her walkabouts as a good spot for another one of their clean up missions. It was in the Dockside district, just behind the gaudy glitz of Kabuki street. Lots of fun to be had over there, and a liquor store besides.

Amare's comment about issues and girls brought a smirk to her face. "...Damn I must have a lot of issues," she murmured to no one in particular.

Well, he would have pressed that button with Quinn, if he'd known it was there. The meaning and usefulness of the lollipop was, for the time being, not well understood.

"What was that, Mannique? You need to suck cock? I know, I know, it's the addiction of the underpaid and underrepresented social class," to which he grabbed the mannequin's head and made it bob up and down over his lap, "Ooooohhhh don't stop. Is that a tongue ring? You have daddy issues? Ohhh I never would have guessed." Then Mannique was shoved to the side and his body pressed to the window, "What's that smell?"

Hand was lifted and he pulled at the wrapper, tugging and peeling it from the sucker before wincing at what she said. "As long as they aren't Daddy issues... I don't want to think about you being one of THOSE... oh god." He pinched the bridge of his nose, another time and place those two would have ended up in the sack, but thankfully for Saila, Quinn had not tried to badly fuck her in his truck all those months ago.

"You are going to have nun issues next time you meet up with Hex, also I may want to skull fuck him with a hot french fry for reasons I do NOT need to mention and..." he smelled it too and looked around perking up. God the mannequin had Daddy issues.

Saila snickered, claiming the sucker once the annoying cellophane was out of the way. She cast Quinn a sidelong grin that became almost immediately skeptical. "... A hot french fry, huh? Let's.. not, okay? I'm feeling... really very positive on him just at present, yeah?" She was, too. She only tried to keep it ratcheted down some for his sake.

But that was the bitch of it, for Saila. Nearly everyone she knew was more miserably devastated than they'd possibly ever been, and Saila... Saila was actually really goddamn happy.

"Some one clue me in on what smells. Am I stopping here?" She asked, her mouth full of blue sucker.

"You smell that, right?" But now the conversation was distracting him. He reached forward, his right hand tightening down on Quinn's shoulder when he leaned in to ask, "Is this hot french fry a thing I don't know about?" It was, at the very least, terminology he didn't know about. His blue puddles jumped to the road ahead, "You two are the human-killing prudes so find a lot already. I think we just passed some bbq." His head turned back to Quinn as he asserted, "I need superglue."

"Oh..." Arm went back into the bag and he went to looking for superglue because well apparently Levi took his common sense with him when he left. "I assure you, I am not a human killing prude, and killing people indiscriminately isn't something I am proud of." Eyes narrowed at the rearview trying to catch those ceruleans before going back to looking for glue. "It's food that we smell, I want food, but I can eat anything really, anyone." Shrugging as his arm disappeared into the bag.

"Sorry..." Murmured at Saila who he was trying to be supportive of, but really, life was pretty fucking low right about now, he didn't do well solo and maybe it was why the man was happy to move into the cramped camper with Dave and Saila and sometimes Keirra, chances of him sleeping alone were slim and he didn't have to worry about waking from the terrors with no one around. "Saila, we thinking drug runners or slavers?" Curious.

I don't think you should give him the super glue -- the thought was radiating out at Quinn like a flashing hazard sign. Saila had this feeling that Mannique was going to end up a permanent backseat driver. Well, it would get him through HOV lanes and stuff, right? Saila had recently learned about HOV lanes. It was a new thing to fixate on, like death and popsicles.

....Popsicles still confused the shit out of her, incidentally.

"No need to apologize, Big Bad." She took a sudden sharp right in the truck. To be fair, there was a change in the shift of energy around them that had made her veer off course, a new scent to follow, basically. The net result might have been throwing Amare across the back seat, but if so it wasn't intentional. Honest.

"...I was going for drug dealers, but I've just changed my mind."

Was Quinn so wrapped up in what he was experiencing that he didn't even realize he was enabling Amare? The question of what the superglue was for or what would happen next wasn't even being raised. This was sort of like Heaven, minus all the sad parts and reality which had caused it to be actualized. The hand that gripped Quinn's shoulder relaxed, his fingers drumming against the curve of Quinn's shoulder as he thought, "If you eat someone who is high, do you get high?" Inquiring minds want to know.

Sharp turn had his body swaying a little in the direction. Enough that he broke his hand from Quinn entirely to brace himself against the ribcage of the car surrounding him. Jostled fairly well. "Ohhh you changed your mind. I didn't know you could do that on account of mostly being a fucking shadow-squirrel. It's a little weird, you know, seeing you drive. Making decisions. It's like you're a person."

(( Upon the next outing...Amare goes to the Inn))

These days there was a lack of supervision, coupled with creativity. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Mannique, his newest companion who had limitless toleration but no gift for conversation, was left to fend for herself. His hands paired together to light the cigarette prior to entry and theeeennnn... straight for the bar. He had an objective.

The truck was parked in the alley and he sat in it for a moment. There were people, this was solstice and he was supposed to be wrestling with a bear or barking at his packmates some foolish command, instead he was parked in a piss soaked filthy alley wondering how to do this without anyone inside dying. Slipping out of his truck and leaving the keys in it, he stepped over the refuse by the back stairs he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

A sharp silver colored suit with a black button up. Mostly clean though any scuffing was incidental. Fingertips drew on the lacquered surface of the bar as he circled around it. Once he was behind and fixing a drink, he felt Quinn more than saw him. So he did the rational thing (gasp) and just made two. Dirty martinis, all 1950's style. Shaken to hell with bits of olive. He poured and nudged one over before he took a drink. It wasn't his favorite.

Quicksilver eyes stumbled over the drink and narrowed on it. Amare knew how to keep him from shouting at least and he took the glass and sniffed at its contents. It was hot, and this was a night for the hunt so instead of slacks and a button up, Quinn had gone for a black tanktop and board shorts. Sliding onto a stool the glass was lifted to an amused smirk and sipped from. "You know we are probably going to shift any minute and destroy everyone here making a massive mess that neither of us can afford to cover up right?" Said through his smile and looking at the glass in his hand. And he was the old man right?

So... the time to meet up had come and gone and neither of the wolves had shown up as planned. What the hell? Tracking Quinn to the Inn, Saila's strange eyes widened subtly as she reached the door. Quinn in public on a full moon night? Why would ---oh. Oh ****. Silvery brows furrowed, and the purple haired teen shoved the door open, her long legged stride carrying her directly to the bar. She took a seat beside Quinn, cool and seemingly casual as you please. "And we're here because...."

"Oh no... whatever will I do if I end up in jail?" He lifted the glass to is mouth and took a swallow and then looked at Quinn. Maybe he was wanting to get arrested, or maybe he just always had an itch that needed scratching. "Have you ever thought that this whole... covering up business is kinda a waste of time? It's like apologizing for farting. Who isn't farting? When did biologoical function mean apologizing?"

Oh, squirrel has come. Moose and squirrel. Both are now at the bar. He thought about making that joke but couldn't polish the words up properly. Perhaps Quinn's prior threat held some merit. Saila also got a dirty martini, though he served it to her as if it was preventing Quinn's teeth and not because he wanted her to have it.

Uh oh, Mom found us, those eyes went wide and he hid the smirk behind the glass and he sipped before looking to Amare. "Do you think prison will be a wonderful gay vacation? People like us don't end up in gen pop sir, we end up in solitary to keep us from eating other people." Pausing to look around and he motioned to Amare for Saila as if to say, this is why we are here.

"Also, they don't put you in prison for slaughtering an inn full of people. They wolfsbane you until they can be sure you're no longer a threat, and then they kill you." Another sip taken and he leaned his head onto Saila's shoulder with a smile. "How's life love?"

"Oh, you know. Angry ghosts, and half-crazy wolves and a full moon twenty -eight hours away. Another boring day." Flashing a grin, she peered at her drink. "Incidentally, any thoughts on where the gypsy went?" The one they were supposed to be watching. Saila never thought she'd see the day that she missed either Levi or Dirk, but this whole being the responsible one thing was .... well. It was an experience, anyway.

"It touches my heart that you think I should be in the general population. I do a service to mankind." He wasn't going to elaborate. Somewhere, in some store, were a hundred headless barbies with condoms jammed into their boxes. The young girls growing up to be women needed a more straightforward message about how to be socially pleasing, after all. He gave Quinn a look and then lifted his glass for a swallow. Surprisingly, it was lonesome without Mannique. She had so many stellar features, one being that she was always right where he left her.

The cigarette went to his lips, smoke exhaled at Saila as he asked, "Who?"
"Dave? He wrote me a note on the mirror in toothpaste that he was going to get lit or laid, so I am sure he will come home, not laid, and not sober and throw himself around until the pills kick in and he passes out." There was a pause and he laughed in Amare's direction. "You're going to end up on a list somewhere for your community service attempts." Quinn was glossing over the Dave thing, it felt too close to home and he didn't want to think about it. It was easier to take a light shot at the progeny before him.

Mismatched eyes slipped from Quinn to Amare, narrowing suddenly. "You found the super glue, didn't you."

It wasn't so much a question as a confirmation.

Amare rolled with the punches, generally speaking. He played too rough and it took a little more acid to earn his ire. Dave? Who? He snorted with disapproval because that's what strangers were. A long list of guilty-til-clawing-at-innocence. That didn't make sense, either. He was negotiating just what a stranger was to him when Saila spoke about the super glue there was a frown, "It's not sold at gas stations and the hour is late."

But they won't be homeless. Whoever heard that a hundred cheerleaders could whine silently? No one. Beyond that, he had too big of a heart to let their voices, faces, go to waste. He tapped the ash of his cigarette out in Saila's drink, "Quinn, I know where we should go."

Now that they were all appropriately loaded into Quinn's truck, Amare smiled and looked at them over his shoulder, "We're all buckled in, right? Safety first." Or second. Third? Or... well, just so long as it made it somewhere on the list. He pushed the key at the starter, Quinn's vehicle roaring up for him, though seeming slightly uneasy at the fact that a not-Quinn was at the helm. Amare petted the dash and then twisted in his seat, squinting through the darkness of the back window to put the vehicle in reverse.

"Is it me or does the full moon make you just a little bit edgy?" He laughed afterward, like the joke really was that original?

"No, it's just you." Was said with an eye roll as he took over the control of the radio in the dash with a look to Saila. It was a hardcore disc, sort of hatebreed, five finger, anger mix that he reserves for nights like this. Allowing it to play, but not loudly he peered to Amare. "So this surprise doesn't involve naked does it? Because the strip club was a mess. And we don't need titties...Well, okay maybe we do, but I need other stuff first."

Glove box was opened, a bottle of pills were opened, shaken into palm and then swallowed down without water. The bottle of vodka discarded on the floor was picked up and sipped from as if washing the meds down. Eyes went out the window and he raised a brow to the moon. "I dunno though, I feel like this isn't going to be a good one, I wonder what..." He cut himself off and shook his head. Imagining Dirk throwing himself around a jail cell in agony wasn't something he wanted to do, but it wasn't much like he had a choice, they'd all be feeling it soon enough.

Saila was in the back seat, thankfully sans Mannique. She was directly behind Amare, mostly because it made it virtually impossible for him to reach her but gave her easy access to him if necessary. Her strange eyes met his in the rearview mirror, and the girl shook her head with a smirk.

Her gaze cut to Quinn, then - her bond with him was never stronger than it was in the hours surrounding the fullness of the moon, and his thoughts filtered through her mind almost like they were her own. The girl swallowed, raked her fingers through her hair. "We'll be fine, but I feel like I'm going to be bouncing off the stars for days."

"What's that?" The rattle of pills caught his attention, "No, it's not a strip bar. I learned something yesterday. Something that I had always known but never really applied to the current situation."

There was a glance back to the purple haired weirdo before he looked back at Quinn, "I feel like if you're having a pill, I should have a pill. Like maybe this is a voyage we should be taking together." It was best not to distract him too much. He was, after all, driving.

There was a chuckle and he pulled open the glovebox and shook out several into his hand and offered them over to Amare. They were benzos, calm down pills, and so he had NO ISSUE sharing them with Amare. Since Levi left to be with his mom the man was living on copious amounts of scotch, xanax, and coffee. Weed and cigarettes bridging the gaps between the other vices of course.

Eyes went to meet Saila's in the rearview and a single thick brow was lifted upwards. What was she planning back there behind Amare he wondered. But didn't ask. "Yeah, you'll be alright, I think. I on the other hand will still be wondering how long this long distance thing is going to work, before one of us gets bored or lonesome enough to fuck someone else." A click of tongue and he sipped the vodka again.

Saila wasn't planning anything. She was being prepared, is all. If Amare had one of his sudden 'wouldn't it be great if' urges and it happened to involve wrapping the truck around a tree or seeing how far it could fly, well, Saila would be there to sedate him. If they ended up in a neighborhood they didn't belong in -- one of the rich areas, for instance - she could put her hands on him and ruin the surprise. She was just putting herself in the best position to be prepared for any eventuality, because she might be reckless but she's no dummy.

Mismatched eyes tracked the bottle as it moved, listening to the two of them talk. She didn't have anything to add, so she didn't say anything.

"So I'm just... taking pills from you indiscriminately? Ohh... okay." Amare popped them into his mouth. Of course, he thought they were the good kind of pills. Not the boring, Quinn-shaped pills that were currently happening in his mouth. He was peering at the store fronts they passed until finally, "THERE IT IS!"

He had almost missed the turn, but lucky for them he knew how to cut the wheel over, make two wheels airborne and then settle all four tires back onto the pavement. That was purposeful or incidental. Both were fairly likely outcomes. He grinned, putting the truck in park, "Have you ever been to one of these places? It's amazing." And there was a wave of his hand, like Disneyland had been discovered. Except behind the wave of his hand was not the magic kingdom but a run down shop called Bob's Taxidermy.

Quinn offered the vodka for Amare to wash the meds down with as he got out of the car, happy to still be alive. He didn't say anything though, looked cool as a cucumber. (Who decided they were so cool? Weird americans that's who.) If there was one thing he knew it was to never let Amare know when he did something that scared or worried him.

"Oh you're fucking kidding me?" He looked up at the sign and his eyes went wide. Now, if you thought Quinn was going to be pissy about it, dead wrong. Like a little kid, he rushed to the door and looked through the glass. "Will they do... Exotics... Like big game, people, or just pets? OH MY GOD! Can we bring the fucking raccoon?! I hate that goddamn thing! Saila lets go get her!" Looking back to the truck.

Saila's mouth opened and then closed again, her brows furrowing in confusion. "What... in the fuck... is that?"

Amare's driving didn't scare her. Nothing did, but nothing car related could possibly even give her pause anymore now that she'd survived Sal driving Cane's jeep. Twice. Two wheels, no wheels, whatever. Nobody'd died.

The teenager let herself out of the backseat, following Quinn, trying to catch up on just what the hell it was she was looking at. "I don't understand. You take real animals and... stuff them? Why?"

"See? Asshole! My ideas are fantastic," Amare grinned, holding the bottle of vodka and giving it a chug before he added, "Well, we are in Rhy'Din so by default this asshat has to be into exotic shit or he's like... on the verge of being closed for business. So... open the door already." There was talk of a raccoon, which he didn't say anything about. Maybe this was a sign that he had had too much. Or not enough. Quinn had said raccoon, right? More vodka would fix that problem.

Amare grinned and sauntered to the front of the taxidermy place, knocking his knuckles to the glass and then saying, "Looks like no one's home and we better help ourselves." There was a pause at what Saila said and he swallowed, trying hard not to laugh at her outright, "One day you'll be stuffed and then will understand. Quinn... the doors?" And to that end, he handed the vodka to Saila. Join them or die. Was she Luke enough?

The door was pushed at with both hands and he stepped inside to the most interesting smell he'd ever smelled. Boiled death and styling products maybe, or maybe it was musty books and acrid old fur. A brow raised and he stepped in to carefully pet a raccoon. "See, he totally does raccoons! We should get Rocket." Nodding again and stepping out the doorway so they could come in. Quinn made his way to the counter and went to looking for a pricing sheet or something of the likes.

"I wonder if I drop it off alive, will he do the..." drags his thumb across his throat with a look to Amare. "Wait why did you need a taxidermist? Did you want to send a present to a...friend" finger quotes were used because Quinn was that kinda douchebag.

"I'm surprised you haven't eat Rocket," said Saila to Quinn, trailing after him into the store. She glanced at Amare, shaking her head with a grin. "Promises promises..." intoned in a singsong as she moved past him.

The smell was... definitely weird. Dead things, but not fresh dead things. Dead things and dust and... a whole bunch of medicinal smells that were vaguely stomach turning. Her lip curling, Saila jammed her hands in her pockets, pretty fucking positive that she didn't want to touch anything she could see. "I...still don't get it. Why is this a thing?"

Amare didn't get the finger quotes thing. Maybe if the only friends he had weren't standing right in front of him it would have been more significant. "What is rocket? That's a vibrator, right?" He moved over to the display room, poking at a few things and then eying a door which would lead to the back room, where the magician worked. He grinned and pushed past Quinn and Saila, flinging the brown beaded curtain aside with a "ta-da" as he entered it.

He called backed to them, "I thought we'd switch some things up. Maybe put some appropriately sized balls on his clients." Oh... no... he was feeling suddenly well-meaning. And kinda quiet. Was this what nice or sedated felt like?

"Eat it!? Eat it!? That's like barebacking a desperate aging junkie prostitute because you need to get laid, no. That is a TERRIBLE idea. Do you know what that damn trash rat eats?! Anything, everything that thing is friggin DISGUSTING. I'd sooner fuck the warlock..." Ouch, poor Cane, Quinn had NO reason to hate him the way that he didn't. Quinn ducked into the back and looked at Amare.

"Where are we going to get the balls from? She doesn't have any," thumb jerk to Saila, "and I am super attached to mine."

Saila smirked a little at Quinn's reaction, amusement evident in her ill paired eyes. If Saila were a taxidermied creature, somebody probably would have bitched about the artist using two completely different eyes for her. Good thing she wasn't stuffed, huh? Ahem. "...I hear the warlock's a pretty good lay..." Her voice was soft, trailing off as the White Wolf ducked into the back.

"Fresh out of balls," she agreed, following them as she tried valiantly not to touch the curtain... thing. Or the walls. Or anything else for that matter.

"I mean, there's stuff around the shop. You don't use for-real balls. Ohhh... hello...." he was cuddling now the half preserved body of a mink. Maybe sedating him prior to the full moon was a good idea. He was cuddling that mink in... maybe the way most men cuddled lovers. On top of the desk, one leg thrown over it as he nuzzled his face into its gross face. There was only some tinkering sounds of metal instruments giving way underneath his body.

"He's very soft." fingertips ran down the length of the mink's body, grinning at Quinn and Saila as he stroked it, "Mine."

Saila watched this, her brows arched in ...somewhat horrified fascination. Girl was pretty much transfixed, trying not to show her amusement. "...I feel like this is going to be very difficult to explain to Mannique..."