“Stifling your talent? Never,” she smiles at him, a little lopsided at best seeing as how her face is bruised ever so slightly. She could feel the actions all over even if she moved just a bit, labored at best. “A beer would be nice, ice would be great,” she nodded, careful not to shake her head too hard- it was bad tonight. Feeling him nudge her made her smile though, even if she was in so much pain. He had tried his best to make her feel comfortable and she liked it that way.
“Did you get my text from earlier? I got you something.” She smiled, pulling out a small box, wrapped and tossed it to him. “Happy- well nothing, seeing as that there isn’t a holiday going on- thanksgiving? Sounds better.”
“I’ll get right on that, then,” he says, standing up to walk to the kitchen. He pulls two beers from the fridge – the courtesy of his just-as-drunken aunt – and prepares a bag of ice. He plops back down next to her, handing her the pre-opened beer and the ice in one grip and his own drink in the other. Quinn’s eyes wander back to the TV, absently wondering what he’s missed.
“No, sorry. My phone was charging.” He squints a little, examining the box. “You didn’t have to, seriously.”
With hesitance, he begins peeling the paper from the box.
