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  • 📅 February and March 2024 are YE 46.2 in the RP.

RP: The Wayward 1.2.1a Nothing Stings Quite Like Sienna

Enansel

Inactive Member
Dawn Station - Sector Nine City - Upper Tiers - Sea of Plenty Restaurant - Dinner Time/Evening


Crammed into one of the bustling city blocks of Dawn Station's stacked urban sprawl in its central hub, the Sea of Plenty sushi restaurant was experiencing an abnormally slow evening. Any number of things could have contributed to the single-digit-count of customers spread as far apart from one another amongst the small tables and barstools at the serving counter as they could be, and the wait staff shuffled about either looking bored or desperately searching for some menial chore to occupy their time. The brightly colored tiled surfaces were sparkling and polished to a mirror's shine, indicative of a newer franchise in the chain this far on the fringes of Yamataian space, and the condiment racks were all stocked to capacity. In the small establishment where space was at a premium, a second story dining area was lofted above the main floor, ringing the walls above them with tables behind a minimalistically ornate safety railing.


At one of the tables in the loft, the only customer sitting on that level sat with her back to the far corner, a young woman with short auburn hair, brownish green eyes, and sporting a heavy earthtone coat over a green tank top, tucked into a pair of utilitarian work pants. Dark, heavy-duty boots with sturdy-looking soles rose up to cover most of her calves, and a PHC device was strapped to her wrist. Despite the way she surveyed her surroundings with a raptor's gaze, dark circles under her eyes gave her a somewhat strung out, tired appearance. A dwindling plate of sushi was in front of her, which she was poking at idly with a pair of chopsticks, next to a mostly empty glass of melting ice cubes.


The wait staff would get their chance to have something to do the instant Quinn walked in. He cast a glance around the place, considered where to sit and then glanced up and after a moment's consideration he caught the eye of one of the waiters and lifted his free hand to indicate he was going up. That much done he adjusted the guitar case across his back and headed for the stairs that led up into the loft above. He took the steps two at a time and paused at the top, not entirely surprised that he wasn't alone up there when he spotted the woman sitting against the wall. After a short thought he headed for the railing instead, picking a spot exactly five tables from where she sat. Off came the guitar case, the violin case settled on top and his heavy duster draped over the back of the chair he intended to sit in.


He wasn't shy about turning to waiter who'd just shown up and asking for enough food to feed three. After an odd look, and the usual question of if he was expecting someone else, Quinn finally scooted the chair out and sat down. He lifted the violin case onto the table and popped it open, pulling it out and setting it aside along with the bow. The case was closed once more and set back where it'd come from. That much done he picked the violin and bow up and leaned back in his chair. He figured there was no need to aggravate the wait staff by actually putting the dirty soles of his boots on the table so when he kicked his feet up he left his feet hanging off the edge and had his calves on the corner of the table instead.


Now that Quinn was settled it would be easier to see exactly what the man was dressed in. His beige boots laced up the sides all the way to his knees. Dark, almost black, grey cargo pants were tucked into the boots and beneath the sleeveless black zip-up vest he wore a comparatively bright maroon colored button up dress shirt. Of course with his dark chocolate skin it made his stark white eyes stand out quite clearly, and his red hair was barely a few shades darker than his shirt. His coat was just as dark as the vest he wore though it was more in the brown-category when compared to his pants. Like a lot of things about him, he apparent liked a bit of color in his life for the violin in his hands was made from wood dyed bright blue and green and coated with clear varnish.


The young woman at the other table watched the giant take his seat, her face an unreadable stone mask, and when their eyes met, she held his gaze for a few seconds with what could almost be construed as a challenging stare before she, disinterestedly, averted them towards her food, stuffing another piece of sushi in her mouth as she went about tapping something away on her PHC's volumetric display. The waiter who had just attended to Quinn passed by her table, but she responded to his inaudible question with nothing more than a gruff wave of her hand, never bothering to look up. The waiter looked slightly irritated at the rebuff, but moved on nonetheless.


Quinn pondered over the challenging stare and decided he'd let her sit alone for a moment more. He turned his attention from the woman to the violin in his hands, adjusting the strings until he liked what he heard. He settled in for a short song to test his newest instrument out. He'd only bought it earlier that day but it wasn't the first time he'd played a violin and probably wouldn't be the last either. Besides patching people up, usually in more ways than one, music was Quinn's saving grace and something he truly enjoyed. Of course the music he played through in the three or so minutes it took for the first of his food to arrive wasn't at all a typical classical piece of music someone might expect to hear out of a violin. The music spoke volumes, probably more than Quinn himself would say at any one time.


At first, the growing frown on the young woman's face made her look increasingly miffed at the caterwauling on the stringed instrument, but as the song continued, the glare in her eyes as she raised them to look at Quinn softened slightly into a muted look of enchantment. She said and did nothing, finishing whatever task on which she was working on her PHC. Leaning back in her seat, she crossed her arms to idly listen, popping another bit of sushi between her teeth and chewing it slowly.


Quinn pretended not to notice her watching him, then again with no visible irises or pupils it was pretty hard to tell where he was looking at any point in time. Quinn obligingly removed his legs from the table when the wait staff appeared with his ordered food in hand. He finished the song and thanked the waiter with a nod before putting the violin back in it's case. Now he picked his head up and made it blatantly obvious he was looking in her direction before he gave her an inviting tilt of his head towards one of the empty chairs at the table he'd picked. While he waited to see if she was going to come to him he picked up one of the sushi rolls and easily fit the whole thing into his mouth in one go, contently munching.


For a moment after the song ended, the young woman kept her curious gaze on the musician, chewing idly. After swallowing the wad of raw fish and rice rolling about in her open mouth, she leaned forward on her elbows on the table. "You know," she called nonchalantly, "most places kick you out for doing something' like that."


"Actually, most places I'm familiar with are generally pleased when no one's been shot, stabbed or started a fight in the past hour or two." Even, calm, projecting but not raising his voice. "Having someone's legs up on a corner of the table is one of the last things they tend to worry about." He could have done worse. He could have come in with not only mud, but also blood and vomit on the soles of his boots and then kicked his feet up on the table and not just on the corner of it. "Especially when they've got someone like me." He glanced up when the second and third plates arrived. "Ah. Thank you." He'd easily just spent 30 KS or more on food alone, and from the way he was going through it, it was clear he had a bottomless pit for a stomach.


"No, dumbass," the woman replied, raising an eyebrow and smirking smugly. "I mean the music."


Quinn considered her comment, and her smirk, and shrugged. "I've never been told to leave before except by drunks, and I don't think they count." As far as Quinn saw, his playing was more often than not quite appreciated by the establishments he was in at the time. Most never complained, beyond a request in changing what kind of music he was playing, though that was probably due to Quinn's preference of having people pay for food and drink in exchange for his playing. That meant the business got business and Quinn got free food and there was little reason for anyone to complain with that sort of set up.


"Hm," came the response, and the slender girl kicked her feet out as she reclined once more in her seat, clasping her hands behind her head after popping the last piece of sushi in her mouth, and setting the chopsticks down. "Nice song though, by the way," she continued around her mouthful as she chewed in an unladylike fashion. It was somewhat difficult to tell from her tone and aloof expression whether the compliment was meant to be sarcastic or sincere.


He couldn't have cared less what she thought of the song, after all he played for his own pleasure and not because others wanted him to. It was a compliment all the same and Quinn took it as one, sarcastic or otherwise. He also didn't seem to be bothered one bit by her unladylike manners. His own manners had been the result of a lot of patience, withering looks, and switches to the ass and by this point in time they came without conscious thought. He wasn't long in finishing off his first plate and he set it aside in favor of the one bearing the mixed tempura. "If you're not coming over here does that mean I can invite myself to join you over there?"


Her eyebrows shot up at the presumption, at first giving the impression that the young woman was taken aback or even slightly offended at the presumption, but no further indications to confirm or deny such a theory became apparent. After a brief pause, an amused smirk tugged at her lips. "What, you lonely over there by yourself?" she chided.


She was definitely a puzzle, Quinn mused to himself, as he watched the expression change on her face. He started into the tempura to give himself a moment to think. "Not really no. You, however, are at least nervous about my interest in you." The woman scoffed a little, but didn't interrupt him. "So instead of risking getting a knife to the ribs, or a gun to my face, I'd rather seem lonely and slightly desperate for company than have to stitch myself back together." There was no change in the even tone of his voice. He had no reason to lie to her after all, though he'd been in much lonelier situations than this.


Appearing somewhat appeased that he recognized her as a threat -- albeit a somewhat exaggerated one, as she didn't have any reason to try to physically harm him, at least not yet, -- the young woman's smirk spread a bit wider as she regarded him with detached, barely-interested curiosity. Finishing the bite of fish rolling about between her teeth, she picked at the side of her canines with her thumbnail before inviting him to her table with a single, subtle, sidelong cock of her head, beckoning him.


Now he was getting somewhere! Quinn unfolded himself from his chair, ferrying the pair of plates over and then returning to grab his coat, guitar and violin. The woman's raptor like gaze appeared to take stock of everything visible on the gigantic-statured man, and it was more than reasonable to assume that she'd taken note of his weapons. However, she didn't react in any visible way; she was very obviously a Nepleslian, and by the looks of her, quite accustomed to treating one's personal security as their own responsibility. She watched as he brought his things over by the armful, never rising from her seat or giving any offer to help, and kept her fingers intertwined beneath the short-cropped hair on the back of her skull.


He settled himself in the chair on the other side of the table, leaving the guitar and violin off to his right. Anyone smart enough would notice that, though Quinn relaxed into the chair and seemed at ease, he'd left himself a way to bail if she decided he was a threat. He was more than capable of defending himself, the very ends of the knife handles poking out of either boot, and the three guns he had hidden in various pockets, but they were more of a last resort than anything. He skipped the teasing 'There, now was that so hard?' he might have asked and went straight to "Nice to meet you. I'm Quinn Cathal," and offered her his gloved right hand.


The girl glanced at his offered hand with muted suspicion for a beat before unclasping her hands from behind her head, and leaned forward to accept the handshake. However, she didn't simply offer her fingertips as some in more civilized -- or perhaps chauvinistic -- regions of settled space might expect from a "lady," but rather grasped Quinn's entire hand with a surprisingly firm and powerful grip for someone of her lithe build. "Sienna," she replied.


Quinn's grip was actually slightly gentler than hers, but still plenty firm, and he didn't seem surprised at all at her grip. "Sienna," he repeated, taking her in and committing every little thing to memory for later. He released her hand and returned to his tempura, giving her the chance to calm down a bit. "So, if I may ask, what brings a woman like you out to this particular fringe of settled space?"


"Business," Sienna replied, folding her arms across her chest, her eyes moving between Quinn and his plate without tilting her head with them as she watched. She offered no further explanation than that, nor did she make any attempt to continue the conversation.


He changed tacks when he noticed her basically screaming at him that she wasn't about to follow that particular line of questioning. "Alright. Fair enough," he agreed to her response and tilted his head towards his pair of instruments. "What sort of music do you like to listen to?" he asked instead, giving her something that seemed to have her more comfortable in talking about.


The amused smirk returned. "You're a chatty fella, ain't you?" she quipped, then shrugged. "I dunno. I'm partial to Vypëria, but I ain't picky. That song you were playing was kinda nice too."


He considered her words for a moment while he ate and by the time he'd thought of something to respond with. He stacked the remaining full plate on top of the empty one, cleaned his fingers off and retrieved his guitar from it's case. A quick tuning it and he played her another song. He'd considered something flirtatious but settled on something a bit closer to what she seemed to enjoy.


As he prepared to play, Sienna tilted her head in slight puzzlement at what she evidently found to be a rather odd follow-up to her response, but when he began to strum and sing, she found herself oddly entranced again. All the while her posture relaxed slightly, and she sat back in her chair, keeping her arms folded, but the music and lyrics wove together in a tapestry that even the stone-masked woman couldn't entirely hide her reaction to. It seemed to get her attention on several levels, speaking to her in a way that words simply failed to. Some of the other patrons on the lower level stopped in the middle of their meal and craned their necks upwards to watch and listen, and one of the waitresses actually whistled at him, cheering him on.


As the song concluded, a smattering of applause bounced through the establishment, but the starry-eyed look on Sienna's face evaporated again. However, one eyebrow remained cocked upwards, and she was still smirking... no, actually smiling ever so slightly. "Well, you got talent, I'll give you that," she admitted. "But if you're lookin' for a record deal or something, you're playing to the wrong person."


Quinn took the applause, and the whistle, quite well. He was used to it by now, as was he used to the comment Sienna offered up when he was done. He slid the capo off of the end of his guitar and settled it to mute the strings a little, keeping his fingers busy with another soft song while he considered his response to her words. "Not really looking for anything from it. A drink is always nice but I play because I enjoy it." He left off mid-song to wiggle his fingers at her, and then decided to do just a little flirting as he picked the song up again right where he'd left off. "Playing the guitar and violin aren't all I'm good at. There are better uses I could put my hands to." He wiggled his eyebrows at her, though he was thinking more along the lines of rubbing her pressure points until she was a limp noodle more so than other things.


Sienna's smile broadened, although the soft, wistful qualities of it were replaced by something more wicked, and predatory. "Oh, that a fact?" she asked leadingly, her eyebrows raising.


"Yes." He answered directly and honestly without beating around the bush. "I'm a medic primarily by trade, but I bet if you gave me two hours I could have you turned into a limp noodle."


"Mm," Sienna cooed, pursing her lips and letting her eyes wander down to his chest, the predatory grin staying on her face. "That all?"


Quinn felt like he was verbally walking into a trap of some sort. He decided on the vaguest reply he had at his disposal instead of trying to guess at what she meant. "I meant a good massage for the record, but I'm not opposed to obliging you if there's something else you want from me."


"That's what I thought." Sienna's smile remained and she stayed quiet for a moment before leaning forward on her elbows once more. "Well, here's the thing," she responded, looking at him from beneath her brow conspiratorially. "Strapping guy like you is nice to look at, and you sure got a knack for that there guitar. But the thing is I already had my medical exam lately," she continued, her tone hardening from mildly sultry to more of a veiled ultimatum. "So let's just keep this 'limp noodle' of yours where it belongs for now. 'Kay?" she added conclusively, with an exaggerated upward inflection, and a smile that had noticeably cooled off.


Quinn's expression flickered briefly from it's placid state to slight confusion and then went right back to giving very little away. He shrugged and, keeping his words even, he added, "A simple 'no' would have sufficed." He didn't seem put off at all by her ultimatum though. He hadn't been intending to go in the direction she thought he was attempting to go, but he wasn't going to correct her either. "Anything else you care to put your foot down on?" he asked, genuinely seeming to care what she needed and wanted.


By now Sienna's smile had faded as held her gaze on him firmly, shaking her head slightly with eerie calm as she blinked once, slowly. "Some people seem to be a little confused on what 'no' means," she explained evenly. "And I don't know you. I wanted to make sure there wasn't any way you were misunderstanding me."


He couldn't honestly say being rejected didn't bother him, but he didn't let it show either, and he wasn't about to give up so easily. He just had to come at it from a different angle when she felt more comfortable with him. There was still plenty more time left in this particular day and he had a good feeling he'd see her again somewhere down the line. "I have to agree. Some people don't know what 'no' means. However I was raised with some semblance of manners." He shrugged once more and then he tilted his head slightly. "I'm still not opposed to letting you get to know me." If that's what she wanted then he'd happily sit there for hours, keep his fingers busy, and answer any number of questions she might have.


A quiet chime from her PHC drew Sienna's attention, and she turned her wrist over to check whatever it was that the device was alerting her to. After tapping away at the display for a moment, which she kept hidden beneath the table, she looked back up at him, folding her hands in front of her. "We'll see," she replied, the smirk creeping back into her voice, even if it didn't show on her lips. "Why so interested, anyway?" she continued, narrowing one eye. "Surely a guy like you could sweet-talk any number of idiot bimbos out there."


Quinn had to put some thought into his next answer to her question. He could bounce around and explain the whole thing, but he decided on a clear cut answers. "While I could get 'idiot bimbos' a dime a dozen the smart ones are usually much better in bed with a few exceptions." Most of which were either drugged or drunk, or both, but none of that had been his fault.


Sienna rolled her eyes and chuckled quietly, looking away. "Well, at least you came right out with it," she commented.


"I've not nothing to hide," he said with a shrug and continued. "As for why you? Judging by the way you look you haven't had a good nights' sleep in some time. A generous cocktail shot or two of of oxytocin, prolactin and endogenous morphine and some rubbing your muscles into submission would hopefully at least let you get some much needed sleep and not leave you feeling like crap in the morning." He gave her a small smile. "Plus, after the past few days I've had I wouldn't mind a shot or two of that particular cocktail myself."


It was obvious that Sienna hadn't exactly expected that, from the slight look of surprise on her face, and the way she tilted her head. "So I look like crap, that what you're saying?" she said wryly.


"Well I'll hazard a guess that you're not allergic to anything currently present and that you don't have asthma or eczema. You're obviously not that old and I doubt you're having problems with your liver. Anemia can be ruled out based on what you're eating so that only leaves Medication and Fatigue." He gave it a moment of thought and then nodded. "I wouldn't say you look like crap. Merely that you haven't slept, or had decent sleep, in some time. It's my job to know things like this."


"Damned if you don't know how to talk to a lady," Sienna replied with thick sarcasm, wrinkling her nose at the list of unpleasant medical conditions Quinn rattled off. She settled back into her seat, folding her arms once more, the guarded look on her face returning slightly. "And not that it's any of your business, but it's just a hangover."


"That would do it," he agreed simply. Had it been earlier that morning he probably would have encouraged her to eat and drink plenty of water, but seeing as she was already eating he would keep his mouth shut on that bit of probably unwanted advice. "Also, I could think up a good dozen cheesy and witty comments about you, but something tells me you wouldn't appreciate any of them."


The young woman grinned coolly again. "No, by all means," she said wryly. "Flatter me. I bet you can't do any worse than you just did."


He answered her with yet another song, though he knew it could be taken several different ways, and he could only hope she took it the right way.


After the song ended, another wave of intermittent applause washed over the tiny crowd below, and one of the men below whistled loudly in a cat call at Sienna. By that point, the young woman was staring at some indistinct point on the ceiling, her lips knitted tightly together in a slight pucker combined with a terse, almost even slightly embarrassed smirk. She didn't bother looking down for the source of the cat call, but rather responded with an obscene gesture in its direction, eliciting a quiet thrum of laughter from the other patrons.


Either unable or unwilling to look away from whatever spot on the ceiling her eyes were fixed on, she slowly started to nod as Quinn lowered his instrument, chuckling quietly. "I stand corrected," she said with a sigh. "That was way worse."


Quinn gave his own quiet chuckle. "Ah, but from your refusal to look at me you're either embarrassed beyond belief, or you actually liked it." He was pleased either way. "I could have gone with the typical Funky City comment of 'dat ass', the ever poetical comparison between your eyes and emeralds, and your hair and silken sheets, or the more honest me with 'It's what's inside that counts.' Take your pick."


With an even more exaggerated roll of her eyes than before, Sienna just shook her head at the gush of 'compliments' that ranged from, as Quinn promised, sickeningly sappy to enragingly offensive. Her PHC chimed again, and she leaned forward to conceal it beneath the table as she responded to yet another message, although the move could just as easily have been to hide the slight red tint in her cheeks behind the hair that she allowed to fall over her face as she looked down. "You're a frackin' idiot," she chastised him, although the tone of her voice betrayed the insult, giving away that while she didn't appear particularly touched or flattered, at least she was highly amused.


Quinn's enhanced eyesight did let him read that blush but he said absolutely nothing when she finally turned her attention back to him. Instead he gave her a huge grin and doffed an imaginary hat. "My pleasure. At least I'm a charming idiot if nothing else." He clearly wasn't going to take that as the insult it was meant to be.


Sienna only responded with an unintelligible grunt and a shake of her head at first, although she kept her flushed cheeks hidden behind her hair as she took her time doing whatever it was she was doing on her PHC. "Whatever," she finally added, the smirk audible in her voice, and closed the volumetric display beneath the table before she looked back up.


Trying to crack Sienna's shell was turning out to be the high point of his night so far. Quinn thought a bit more and then shrugged and lowered his voice a little so the conversation remained between them. "Shall I tease you with another embarrassing song? Or am I going to be able to weasel my way into that shell of yours?"


"I'd say you've walked far enough out onto the ice already," she replied, folding her arms on the table, one corner of her mouth turned upwards.


"Oh good! Time to break through a thin part and take a swim I think." He returned her tiny smile with another of his big grins, quite enjoying this line of chatter.


Sienna's eyebrow twitched upwards again. "And freeze to death?"


"I take it that you've never heard of the Ice Mile Swim have you?" His grin remained. "Fucking Freezing, but the adrenaline rush is amazing."


"No, but I've been in sub-zero water before," she replied, wrinkling her brow. "Why the hell would you voluntarily jump in?"


"The same reason I'm willingly pursuing you despite your insistence you don't want anything to do with me," Quinn replied.


The young woman's chin lifted as her lips parted, and a sudden look of sardonic realization shaped her expression. "Ah," she said flatly. "Sheer stubborn stupidity, then."


He turned his attentions to the last plate of food settling the guitar on one foot and leaning it against his leg so it was more or less out of the way for the moment. "That and perhaps a little masochistic, Yes."


"Obviously," Sienna agreed.


He munched while he thought, all of this work with and on Sienna making him hungry. "So. I guess the question now is, what do I have to do to get you to let me in? Beyond ejecting myself from an airlock sans suit?" He was serious too.


"That would be a good start," the young woman replied wryly, settling back into her seat again with a sigh. She reached up and started to pick at her teeth once more with her thumbnail, gazing with an unreadable expression across the table at him, other than the smirk remaining on her lips.


Beyond getting physical Quinn was running out of ideas, though while following that particular line of thought an idea hit him between the eyes hard enough to get him to actually rub at the bridge of his nose. "Obviously words aren't working. Would you consider letting me show you I'm not like any other man you've ever meet?" It took a lot to lie through body language.


Her grin spread further. "Well, if nothing else, you're good for a laugh," she replied with a shrug and a chuckle. "And call it morbid curiosity, but as much as I really ought to just walk away right now, I've just gotta know what goofy-ass trick you're sitting on now." She crossed her legs and shifted her hips slightly to one side, propping her cheek upon her fist, elbow on the table. "So let's see it." The look on her face said it all: this oughta be good.


Quinn answered only answered by seemingly meeting her eyes and putting his own arm and hand, palm up on the table. He waited, quietly and patiently, giving her all the time it took for her to either reject his question or decide she actually did want to know what he was offering. When he didn't do anything for a moment, Sienna's eyebrows started to creep upwards. "Um..." she said expectantly, "well?"


Quinn turned his head pointedly towards her free hand and wiggled his fingers in a gentle 'come hither' motion and then he waited again, saying nothing as promised.


A puzzled look started to take hold on Sienna's expression as she looked increasingly sideways at the large man sitting across from her, until the movement of his fingers caught her eye. Her brow creased downwards and one eye narrowed in suspicion, but after a few seconds' consideration, she lowered her fist from her cheek and leaned, slowly and cautiously, towards him.


Not exactly what he wanted, but he figured it would do for the moment. He moved slowly, carefully, giving her time to back out of it if she felt threatened. The first two things that ended up happening was an easy sleight of hand trick with the guitar pick he'd had between his fingers to begin with, the second the very touch of his rough fingertips against her ear as he did the little "magic" trick. Depending on her reaction to that he had one of several options to pursue.


The light touch of his fingers on her ear caused Sienna to flinch, very briefly but rather violently, away from his hand, and the way her eyes flashed gave away the fact that a typical reaction from her to such a thing would have been, at the very least, a broken finger or two. But whether it was something about the way Quinn seemed to respect her personal boundaries, or out of sheer curiosity for what silly advance that the behemoth bard was attempting, she held where she was, leaning slightly over the table. She didn't, however, seem terribly impressed with the little "illusion," judging from the way her eyelids fell a touch in mild disappointment.


Quinn remained calm and slow, even when she flinched at the touch of his fingers. He brought his hand back where she could see it and invited her to touch him instead, offering her the guitar pick in an attempt to get her hand within touching range. His thought that was if he could get her to give him her hand for all of five minutes he could change her mind as far as that offer at a 'limp noodle inducing massage' went.


Still leaning forward, Sienna's eyes moved to the guitar pick, and then back to Quinn's face with an increasingly flattened expression. "What is this?" she asked, half as a rhetorical question, and half as a way to drive the point home that she was both unimpressed and completely confused.


Quinn wiggled the guitar pick at her in answer to her question, encouraging her to reach out to take it from him. He couldn't get to the impressive part until she decided to put a tiny drop of trust into him.


Hesitantly Sienna reached forward and took the pick from him, looking as if she expected him to bite her hand off the moment it was close enough.


He kept his grip on the pick so she couldn't pull it free so easily for a moment. He would wait patiently until he spotted the slightest bit of relaxation before he let go and withdrew his hand from being so close to hers. When Sienna pinched the pick between her thumb and forefinger and he didn't let go after a couple of attempts to take it, her face fell slightly in annoyance. Yanking it free from his fingers quickly, she settled in on her elbows, one arm draped flat on the surface in front of her, the other holding up the pick in between their faces, waggling it. She pursed her lips tightly with a raised eyebrow, silently insisting that he get on with whatever the next step in his little presentation was.


There was no touching, no biting her hand off, just the release of pressure when she gave him that little bit of trust. Then he opened his hand up, palm flat, and silently requested the return of his pick and settled in to wait again.


With a sigh, Sienna placed the pick in Quinn's open palm, rapidly losing interest in this little game.


Once again he gave her every opportunity to pull away if she felt threatened, slowly closing his hand around hers when he felt the pick placed in his palm. She tensed, coiling up like a viper for a moment, but while she didn't snatch her hand away, her eyes stayed locked on his, watching him intently for the first sign of anything untoward or unseemly. His pointer finger rested lightly against the vein in her wrist to keep a check on her pulse, the rest of his fingers curling around the back of her hand and his thumb kneading against the muscles in her hand. Clearly somewhat surprised at the sensation his hands working her muscles gave her, her hand and arm relaxed somewhat, although it was also evident that it was completely involuntary. Gentle at first, increasing in pressure until he found her threshold as far as his touch was concerned. He worked the muscles, tendons and pressure points, moving no further down her arm than that and giving her a chance to consider it, and hopefully enjoy it.


Every so often, a bit of pressure he applied evoked a slight twitch or imperceptible grimace on her face, but for the most part, the longer he worked her hand and forearm, the more the knife-like look on her face softened. After a few moments her eyelids had drifted closed as she stopped fighting it, and lost herself in the waves of relaxation radiating from her arm.


'I win' Quinn mouthed silently to himself, pleased with himself. He let her know his second hand had joined in as he got deeper into it, working his way down her forearm towards her elbow and keeping a careful watch on her so he could tell when it got to be too much for her. When he got close to her elbow he removed his touch for the most part, sliding his hands back along her arm until both of his hands rested lightly around hers, one against her palm and the other resting on top of her hand. He remained silent, giving her all the time she needed to come out of her relaxed state. Quinn could be gentle, could respect her boundaries, could do delicious and amazing things with his hands, or without them if she so insisted, and he was determined to prove to her that he wasn't at all like a good majority of any typical male population.


Sienna's eyelids fluttered open slowly, looking as if she might melt into a puddle of formless goo at any moment. Her lips parted to speak, but she didn't seem to have any words to say for a few seconds. Quietly, she drew a long, slow breath through her nose, and sighed it out, the shadow of a content smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Lazily her eyes moved to the hand that Quinn held clasped between his, then back up at his face. One eyebrow raised up, and she pulled her hand free, then immediately gave him the other one, nodding towards it pointedly.


Quinn let her hand slide free when she decided she wanted it back and he laughed when she gave him the other one. He took it just as slow and gentle as he had her other hand, working much better when he could use both of his hands on hers. He sat there quietly, working away at her fingers, hand, wrist and forearm until he had her back into that clearly relaxed, if not happy, state once more. He became bold enough this time to lean over and press a gentle kiss to the back of her hand before he backed his touch off, once again leaving her hand loosely held between both of his.


When she felt his lips on the back of her hand, one of Sienna's eyes opened to look at him warily. "Don't get too friendly, now," she tried to warn him, but her mind and body were too much at ease for her to sound particularly threatening. It had obviously been a very long time, if ever, that she'd been touched like that.


Quinn gave her a small, easy and relaxed smile and he let her watch as he very slowly turned her hand palm-up and pressed another gentle kiss to the palm. He knew he was pushing gently at her boundaries, but without a gentle give and take between the pair of them they wouldn't get anywhere beyond that moment they sat in right now.


A soft sigh parted Sienna's lips again as her eyes drifted closed once more. "Stop that," she protested, though her voice was airy and far away.


Quinn pressed a third kiss to her palm, and then one to the inside of her wrist, and then one a little higher than that. Careful, always, and always giving her a way out. Pushing at her boundaries bit by bit, getting closer and closer like the slow crawl of ivy up the side of a building or tree.


The young woman's shoulders jerked slightly as she gasped the smallest of gasps as his lips climbed her arm, her breath ever so slowly increasing in depth and rhythm. Her eyes remained closed as she turned her head to the side, away from him, and her arm was relaxed to the point of being almost dead weight. "I'm not kidding," she said in a breathy whisper. "Stop. Now."


A dangerous game this was, choosing between her relaxed physical attitude and her potentially dangerous words. He pressed a few more kisses to her skin and then he did oblige. He didn't back off though, choosing instead to lay the side of his head against her arm. His hands rubbed at the muscles and pressure points of her hand again, encouraging her to remain relaxed for him.


Sienna's shoulders, by this point, had begun to subtly heave up and down, and a quiet moan rumbled in her throat. And then, with startling speed and accuracy, her right hand launched from where it lay limp on the table, her deceptively powerful fingers clasping the underside of Quinn's jaw and wrenching his head off of her arm, tilting his face up to hers. Before Quinn realized what had happened, she had snatched her left hand from his tender grasp, and was clutching a fistful of his hair on the back of his head. Her nose and lips stopped less than an inch away from his, and her eyes burned with dangerous fire as they bored into his. With soft, uneven, ragged breaths, her lips and teeth parted as she glared at him, her hot breath on his cheek... but she did nothing. She only hovered where she was, staring angrily at him with a strange combination of fiery passion and dangerous ice in her eyes.


Slowly her teeth closed together, and her jaw clenched. "I said... stop," she hissed.


Those few minutes seemed to last hours, Quinn's mind racing to catch up with Sienna's quick movements that ended with her staring him down from barely an inch away. He didn't give an inch, or take one, letting her hold him where she wanted him and remaining as perfectly still as his continued even breathing would allow. He knew he'd crossed that line, and it had given him a much better feel for what she could, and would, tolerate from him. He had to do a lot of muscle flexing to maintain his balance but he slowly lifted his hands from the table and very gently put them on either side of the wrist of the hand that was holding his jaw. He didn't press, didn't pull, merely rested them there and let his weight settle on his elbows. Finally, and very quietly and calmly he answered her. "I did."


Their eyes remained locked on one another for another several seconds, Sienna's nose practically brushing the tip of his, their mouths were so close to one another. Her eyes darted a few times between his eyes and his lips, seemingly unable to tear herself away for a moment, until finally her will defeated her apparently incited biological urges, and she brusquely shoved herself off of him, knocking his head back slightly in the process. She forced herself to close her mouth, to calm her ragged breathing down through several poorly controlled sighs through her nostrils, and pushed a trembling hand through her hair as she slammed her back against the seat, scooting it back an inch or two on impact. "You didn't," she said tersely. "This is what I meant by having to explain what the frackin' word 'no' means."


Quinn let her do the moving away, flexing his feet on the floor so that her shoving at him didn't slide him off of the table. He remained where he was until she evened her breathing out and finally spoke up. Only then did he pick himself up off the table and settled back into his chair, tugging his shirt and vest straight. "Stop. Verb or Noun. In this case the cessation of a named action." He made sure she was listening. "No. Determiner, exclamation, adverb or noun. Generally meaning for something to not happen at all whatsoever." He tilted his head towards her arms and then back up to her face. "You told me to stop. So I did. Had you told me 'no' I wouldn't have tried in the first place."


The PHC on Sienna's arm chirped again, but this time she ignored it. She was too preoccupied with staring incredulously and slack-jawed at the seven-foot man giving her a vocabulary lesson, her brow creased in an irritated frown. "S-Seriously?" she partially stammered, her eyebrows suddenly raising in disbelief. A single scoff jerked her torso as she glanced to the side for a second, then back at him. "That's your answer? Nit-picking my exact words?"


"Yes. That is my answer. You don't have to explain what the words 'no' and 'stop' mean to me. Be as angry as you like but I did as you asked. I have no intention of hurting you, taking advantage of you, or forcing you to do anything you don't want to. I told you I would show you I'm not like any other man you've ever meet and I can only hope you'll take a moment to realize I did exactly as I said I would." He'd given her every reason to trust him. Trust what he said, what he did, and now it was up to her to do with it as she would. He wasn't frightened, wasn't upset, and clearly still wasn't backing down. He remained relaxed, at ease and patient in the face of her anger and emotion,


It was clear that Sienna didn't have any idea what to make of his response. She simply sat there, with her hands on her knees, staring nonplussed across the table, her eyes flitting back and forth between each of his. The pause lingered in the air for what seemed like forever, during which her jaw slid to the side, and she started to slowly gnaw on the inside of her cheek.


Finally, she took a short breath, and held it, her mouth open, as if trying to choose her words while continuing to look at him sideways. "You're exactly like every other man," she finally said, "and still I don't get you."


"That's all right. Not everything is meant to be understood," he answered evenly. The difference between him and the majority of the men he'd grown up knowing is that he cared. Genuinely cared what happened to people. He cared what they felt and what they needed, and he'd taken an oath from the man who'd taught him that he would do no harm. That was a hard line to walk, between caring, and not hurting, but he'd come this far and he wasn't about to let up now. He could see that she hurt, maybe not all the whys and hows, but he was doing his damndest to start trying to make it hurt less, if not make her better bit by bit, piece by piece. No matter how many times he had to lean across that table and end up with her fierce grip on his jaw and her hand tugging his hair out. He may have been a stubborn bastard, but his patience usually won out in the end.


Sienna's head turned the other way as she switched the side of her face she was looking at him from. He could practically hear the gears turning in her head, pondering what he'd just said for a second. "Okay, enough bullshit," she said, looking him over as she quietly cleared her throat, then raised her eyes back to his. "What are you getting out of this, really?"


"I could lie and tell you nothing.," he considered out loud. "In fact I could lie and tell you what I think you want to hear. However, in the interest of keeping what little trust of yours I have, I'm going to tell you the truth." He took a single even breath in and out. "Self satisfaction. That I tried to help someone I see who is clearly hurting. The getting my hands on an obviously beautiful woman," he moved his hands to mimic the curves her breasts, waist and hips made, "and possibly getting laid are both bonus points but I have the rare talent of both being able to keep my hands to myself and keeping my pants on unless you give me permission otherwise." He, himself, and his hands could make up for it. Later, elsewhere, and in private.


"Hah," Sienna scoffed with a dubious grin, shaking her head and rolling her eyes again. Lifting her hand, she pointed sternly across the table at Quinn. "Listen," she said evenly, "you don't know a goddamn thing about me. Don't waste your breath with all that psychoanalytical shit. You ain't fooling me for one second with your whole 'knight in shining armor' bit." Her nose wrinkled in a slight sneer. "Even if I did know what the hell you were talking about."


He made a slight supplicating gesture. He wasn't sure what else to tell her besides a little more of the truth. "I would like to get to know you." Better than what his psychologic and sociologic training told him about her, but he left that unsaid. From her manners he could tell she didn't like people getting close, had issues with people touching her. He was guessing that was from sexual assault or abuse somewhere down the line, and most likely from other men. She enjoyed massages and music. Tolerated interaction of many kinds if it was on her terms, and he had a feeling she like one of three colors, green, grey or blue. He wondered how close he'd gotten on the last one, but didn't ask.


"Yeah, heard that one before too," the young woman replied.


"And how many have made an honest effort?" he replied back evenly. He knew he had tried to find out more about her despite being shut off at almost every avenue of questioning he put forth.


Sienna gave him another humorless smile. "What makes you think you've convinced me that you are?"


"You're a pretty difficult woman to convince of anything that you don't think was your idea in the first place." He laid both hands, palm up, on the table once more, the guitar pick laying in the palm of his left hand. "I got you to let me touch you because I set it up so that it became your idea to come to me, and not the other way around." Which he knew she probably didn't want to hear, but it was what he'd done. "And I rewarded that tentative trust of yours with a massage you clearly enjoyed up until I started kissing along your arm." He watched her, his looks placid and even, studying her and trying to figure her out better.


Embarrassed indignance flashed over Sienna's face as she scoffed again, looking away and crossing her arms with a shake of her head, her mouth hanging open as if she couldn't believe what she just heard. She rolled her tongue sideways in her mouth, biting down on it with her molars, continuing to shake her head. "I don't believe you," she muttered under her breath, and then looked back over at him. "This might come as a surprise to ya, but I ain't no animal, and you ain't gonna get anywhere tryin' to train me," she said coolly.


"I'm not trying to train you and I don't at all think you're an animal." He was still being honest. "I am however trying to gain your trust, one bit at a time, and if that means relying on body language instead of words then so be it. You can't make it through this world without letting someone in, even if just a little." He moved the pick from his palm to his fingers with a practiced movement of his hand. "I don't know who hates you, I don't know who loves you. I don't know where you came from or where you're going, and I frankly don't care. I don't mind if you don't tell me your deepest fears, or your highest hopes, or the demons that haunt--"


Suddenly the table between them was on its side with a noisy clatter, and Sienna had sprung from her seat, with two fistfuls of Quinn's shirt twisted tightly in her grip and pulling him upright in his seat. The fierce look on the woman's face had returned in full force as she snarled down at the big man's face, but thanks to their drastic differences in height, she didn't stand more than a foot taller than him even while he was seated. Her teeth were gnashed tightly together, her eyes burning with fury, and even before she spoke, her message was clear: stop talking.


"Frack you," she hissed in barely-controlled fury. "We all got our problems, yeah. But mine ain't none of your business."


Quinn didn't move except to catch his guitar before it too could follow the table and fall over. He remained eerily calm in the face of her fury and he allowed her to say her piece before he quietly continued what he'd been saying. "Or the demons that haunt your dreams." He considered leaving it then and there, letting her leave or leaving himself. "For all of the shutting down, the snappy comments, attempts to keep me out, and angry responses you've given, I can at least leave knowing that for a few minutes. A few precious minutes, you let me in, and while I can't even begin to fix you, that'll be enough for me." He continued to watch her, hurting for how much he could see she hurt, but still refusing to sink to her level and be violent in return to her anger. He figured if it helped for her to have someone to beat on, at least it was him. He could take a beating a lot better than most people he'd seen lately and still walk away from it.


Sienna just stood there, clenching his shirt in her shaking fists, glaring furiously down at him as he said his piece. Even though it seemed like she was one wrong word away from losing what little remained of her self control, she just stood there for several seconds after he finished speaking, her breathing heavy and every muscle in her body pulled taut. She panted a few times in a crescendo like a time bomb nearing the end of its countdown, and yanked one of her hands free of his shirt, balling up her fist and rearing it back as if to deliver a savage hook to his face, but she hesitated.


For another few seconds she sat there nearly frozen, appearing conflicted as to what to do next. Several tense moments passed, and then, suddenly, something seemed to snap in her mind. "Frack it," she gasped, and with both hands grabbed a firm hold of both sides of his face, pulling his lips to hers.


He continued to sit still and silent while she worked through it. He knew there would be a point where her anger would begin to tire, to weaken. Of course he eyed her fist when she raised it, but he looked back at her face when she decided she wasn't going to hit him. He might have sighed in relief if she hadn't decided to pull him into a kiss. He didn't change during that though, his lips soft against hers, giving all she wanted, taking all she was willing to give and trying to give her no reason to regret the decision. It took all of his self control to keep his hands on his guitar neck.


She didn't let up for a second, channeling all of the rage she had been barely holding in check just moments before into red hot passion. Her right arm wrapped around his neck, holding him firmly in place as she buried her mouth and tongue deeper into his, and moaned softly as she straddled his lap, sitting down and pressing her body against him tightly.


All her idea, and exactly what he wanted. The strategy had worked yet again and she wasn't the wiser. He tilted his head when her kisses grew hotter and more passionate, delving right back into her own mouth and happily obliging her. He flexed a little to lower the guitar gently to the floor and loosely slid his arms around her, leaving his hands in neutral territory so as not to spook her, letting her press against him. It wouldn't be hard at all for her to tell just how much he was enjoying this development.


Feeling his swelling reaction to her pressure only spurred Sienna into grinding her hips into him harder, and her kiss increased in intensity as she began to bite down on his lower lip with feline ferocity, her breathing now heavy and noisy. At the same time, she threw her shoulders back, ripping off her coat and struggling against it as if it were handcuffs, her arms bound up in the sleeves. The PHC on her wrist chimed again, but she didn't seem to notice in her throes of passion. By this point she was starting to take on the likeness of a feral animal, barely in control of her actions.


This was actually quite refreshing for Quinn. The whole primal instinct thing, though he didn't intend to let her shed much more than her coat. He wasn't one for giving free shows despite his detached feelings about what she was clearly aiming for. He continued to oblige her in the hot and heavy kissing department though, huffing uneven breaths through his nose so he didn't have to break the kiss until she decided to let up first.


"Hey, ah, excuse me," a third voice, sounding rather annoyed, chimed in.


Sienna ripped her face away from Quinn's, though her breathing remained intense and heavy for several seconds more, and her hips and breasts were still grinding tightly against the seven-foot man she sat astride, and her arms were still bound up behind her in her coat. Her wild eyes turned towards the pudgy-looking, middle-aged manager of the restaurant, dressed in slacks and a short sleeved collared button-down shirt... and eyeing the spectacle with disapproval. Quinn's head of course followed Sienna's gaze when she pulled away and he glanced over his shoulder at the pudgy man behind them.


"I'm going to have to ask that you stop that right now," he said insistently, and eyed the overturned table. "There is a hotel down the street if you two insist on acting like animals, but I won't have it here."


Sienna's face flushed bright red as she suddenly seemed to regain control of herself, letting up on the pressure she was putting on Quinn, and clearing her throat sharply. Quickly, she rose to her feet, yanking her coat back over her shoulders, pushing some hair out of her eyes and straightening her clothing. As if she hadn't just done it a second before, she cleared her throat again, even more loudly this time, and even more poorly at masking her embarrassment. "Sorry," she said, avoiding eye contact with the manager, and made a point of busying herself standing the table she'd flipped back upright.


Quinn gave the man a very clearly not-sorry grin and followed Sienna to his feet, tugging his own clothes back into order. He tucked the guitar safely away in it's case and then went about helping Sienna clean up. It didn't take more than a minute or two before it more or less looked like it had before the pair of them had decided on some heated passion right then and there. Figuring they wouldn't be tolerated further he fished his electronic money card from his pocket and offered it to the manager. "Her meal's on me." He added.


"No," Sienna interjected suddenly and a little too loudly, stepping between the two, and pulling a credit chit from her own pocket. "I can get my own," she insisted with forced evenness.


The manager shrugged and accepted both chits, and shook his head disdainfully as he left to run them.


He slipped into his coat and twitched it around himself, hiding the evidence of his interest in the continuation of their wild activities. He shouldered the guitar, took the violin in one hand and offered his free hand to Sienna. "Shall we?"


Sienna, still looking slightly disheveled and revved up, looked down her nose at his hand, then back up at his face with a shake of her head. "No, we 'shan't,'" she replied, some of the anger still audible in her voice. "Just... just let me pay for my dinner and leave me alone."


His own face actually read a brief flicker of confusion, and an even briefer flicker of hurt, before it went flat and placid again. "Is that what you really want?" he asked. Evenly, calmly, trying hard not to have a little temper of his own. And things had been going so well too.


"Yes," Sienna snapped quickly in a near outburst, immediately looking at the floor. Although her voice was still steeped in anger, the turmoil it was masking finally showed through, even in that single syllable. She avoided his eyes for several seconds, before hesitantly looking back up at him, unable to meet his eyes for long. She turned away. "Yes..." she repeated, more softly this time.


"I don't believe you for an instant," he admitted honestly, not looking away from her. He slid his free hand into his pocket and slid his datapad free, setting the violin down at his feet so he could flicker through several screens before coming to the one he wanted. It wasn't so hard to ping her little PHC with his contact information since they were right there and all. "I don't know how much longer I'll be around, but if you need me you've got my number." He risked a broken wrist, or arm, or fingers, to give her cheek a gentle touch and her shoulder a gentle squeeze before he turned and left her alone just like she asked him to. He collected his chit from the manager, ignored the stares from the other patrons and vanished into the crowds outside. Time for a cold shower and the remainder of that rum Veronica had so nicely given him. He was going to need it.


Sienna winced slightly at the contact, but didn't pull away; she only kept her eyes pointedly averted from his, offering nothing more than an apathetic nod when he gave her his contact information. She didn't turn to watch him as he left, nor did she say anything. She only stood there, lost in her thoughts, her eyes mostly obscured by her hair.


After he was gone, her PHC chirped again, and her shoulders fell as she sighed. Lifting her arm to look at it, she responded to the message icon hovering in the air above it, and swiped a finger through it. Reading its contents quickly, she closed the display and let her arm fall back to her side, finally lifting her head to see the manager standing before her, holding her credit chit out in front of him.


The pudgy man tilted his head when he saw the mist in the young woman's eyes. "Are you alright, miss?" he asked.


"Fine," she snapped, snatching the chit from his hand, and sniffing sharply. "Thanks for the meal." She shoved past him for the stairs, blinking away the tears in her eyes, and chastising herself for allowing Quinn to manipulate her so.
 
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