Questionable Reputations Who: Quinn and Sofia Where: The Daily Grind When: Thursday afternoon (December 3)
He leaned slightly on his Harley, lighting up a brown paper clove cigarette that he was so fond of. At first glance, anyone in the know, would not believe that Quinn Draper was a Junior Watcher or in the Watcher's Council at all. The werewolf was still in college, shaggy hair, slight scruff on his chin, smoked, and wore atypical attire that the average Watcher normally didn't wear. A lightweight hoodie was worn over some rock band graphic tee, tattoos, holey jeans, boots, and a worn leather messenger bag was slung across his torso.
In contrast to the guy on the bike, Sofia was dressed in a hand-tailored knee-length jet-black pencil skirt and a sleeveless, blood red cashmere sweater. Her dark hair hung sleek and straight, held back by her Chanel sunglasses which were perched atop her head. Her blue eyes had been surveying her surroundings as she sat beneath the patio outside the small coffee shop, but the rumble of the motorcycle had broken her concentration. Her senses tingled as she eyed the guy lighting up and she tilted her head, watching him with a renewed interest. before she could be caught staring, however, she lifted her coffee cup and turned the page of her magazine.
His back was to Sofia until the breeze changed and Quinn caught the scent of the she-wolf. He turned slightly, eyeing the patrons outside at the various tables over his shoulder and spotted the crimson sweater right away. She was attractive...and completely out of his league. The werewolf turned back around before he, too, was caught staring. But, Quinn couldn't help himself. In the past, he always had a weakness for the oh-so-attractive ones and looked over his shoulder at her again. Maybe it was the slight...badassness she exuded?
Finishing off her coffee, she set the cup aside and leaned back in her chair, crossing her long legs as she continued to read. What was it? Cosmo? InStyle? People? Actually, it was Forbes, but who was really paying attention? Still, she wasn't really reading anymore, was she? One of her downfalls was curiosity...and a penchant for good-looking guys...and a fickle nature...and...well, what more was there to say? Though she kept her head down, her feline (how ironic was that?) gaze stayed with the guy and she wondered what his story was. Oh, he wasn't a Bale, she could tell that easily. She hadn't run into any other strays yet, however. But another pack in Los Angeles? Unless it was just passing through, that seemed unlikely.
Well that was it. Dropping the last of his cigarette onto the concrete, Quinn ground it out before walking up to Sofia's table. Pointing casually to the empty coffee cup, the werewolf asked, "Buy you another?" Sofia's assessment of Quinn wasn't too far off the mark; He was a stray as nearly his entire pack was dead due to Hunters. It was something he felt terrible about, but it was also an eye opening experience for Quinn. Nearly being killed put him on a better path, so to speak.
Sofia gave no signal that she'd heard him, at least not at first. Being close to another wolf always brought mixed emotions. At least it did for her. There was always the subtle play for dominance that rippled beneath the surface, the unknown, and that animalistic call to the wild part of her that she truly loved. Not everyone embraced their wolf the way she did, but there was nothing about her life that Sofia didn't love. Well, with the exception of one thing. Setting her magazine down, she tilted her head back a bit and leveled her blue eyes on him. "Sure. Black with two sugars."
Had Quinn still been with his pack, Sofia's delay in answering him would've triggered a very unpleasant display of angry dominance on his part. The werewolf had been the alpha of his pack, after all, it was practically required. But Quinn had spent a year curbing the beast's impulsive anger; Meditation was practically a ritual in his life. Now, he didn't even care. Quinn was beyond the petty squabble's of pack dominance and politics. It took a lot to get Quinn angry now, "Be right back." Moving into the cafe, he returned outside a few minutes later placing Sofia's black coffee with two sugars in front of her and took the seat opposite her with his own plain black coffee.
She couldn't deny the fact that, as the guy walked inside, she glanced over her shoulder to watch him. She scanned him from head to toe, taking in every little detail before turning back around and settling into her seat again. Curiouser and curiouser.... He hadn't risen to her bait, though granted that could mean any number of things. He seemed out of place to her - not by appearance, hell, this was Los Angeles and nothing was too out of the ordinary. No, it was something else that she couldn't quite put her finger on. And before she could figure it out, he'd returned. "Thank you," she said as he set the coffee in front of her. She nodded to the chair across from her even as he was already claiming it, and that brought a slight grin to her lips. "You're not from around here, are you?" Funny, coming from the woman with that lilting, vaguely unrecognizable mish-mash of accents.
A smile curved Quinn's lips just before he took a sip of his coffee. Setting the cup down, the werewolf shook his head, "The same could be said of you." A pause, "No...I'm from Chicago originally." There was a slight thoughtful tap on his coffee cup before he asked, "...What gave it away?"
At his smile, her own widened. Chicago. She had not passed through that way before. When he asked what had given it away, she laughed lightly before taking a sip of her coffee. "I may not be from around here, but I am aware of the, shall we say, 'top dogs' in the area? And you are not one of them. Not a Bale, at least," she conceded. Her gaze wandered to his bike and then back again. "Alone?" she queried, head tilting to the side and her dark hair spilling over her shoulder so that the ends danced along the top of her arm. "I haven't come across another pack in the area."
"Ah, yes...The Bales." Quinn chuckled, agreeing with Sofia, "No...No I'm not one of the Bales." He lifted a couple fingers to the stubble on his chin, a little sheepishly, "That would mean I'd be...pureblood." Quinn said with a hint of bitterness and stole a sip of coffee from his cup. "Yes...I'm alone, now."
So he wasn't pureblood. Perhaps that was what had been nagging at her; a subtle difference. Still, that note in his voice didn't go unnoticed. Did she comment on it, however? Of course not. It was rude to poke and prod at touchy subjects. The she-wolf might have embraced her wild side fully, but that didn't mean her parents hadn't done everything in their power to ensure she possessed some sort of refinement. At least while in human form. "What is it that brings you to California? Or are you just passing through?"
Quinn took his duty as Watcher seriously and, despite this woman's obvious supernatural nature, didn't say anything about his occupation, "My education...among other things." The cute, melt inducing smile that had been so common many years ago appeared on Quinn's lips again and he flicked a hand at her, "Okay, your turn. What about you?"
"Nice deflection," she complimented before taking a deep breath, her gaze steady on him. "Perhaps I should get your name before I hand over the life story?"
Oh, yeah. Definitely out of his league and Quinn had definitely been out of the pack dynamic long enough not to be on top of that. Clearing his throat and shifting in his chair a bit with embarrassment, the werewolf scratched the side of his nose, "Quinn. Quinn Draper." He vaguely wondered if his name had any meaning anymore. Once upon a time, it had...mostly in Chicago, though.
The discomfort her question seemed to cause was amusing, to say the least. She didn't laugh, though her smile took on a mischievous curve as he cleared his throat. "A pleasure," she said, not batting a lash at his name. If there was anything about him to be known, either she did not know it or it did not readily rise to the surface of her recollection. "Sofia de la Vega," she returned, her smile still easy. "As for what brings me to California, it's a multitude of circumstances, but the Bales are old family friends." Which hinted at the fact that she was, in fact, pureblood, did it not? She failed to mention that they were not at all the reason she was in Los Angeles, but everyone had their secrets, did they not?
He was sticking one of those brown papered cigarette's between his lips and had his Zippo flicked open, the flame using up fluid as he stared in awestruck shock at Sofia. Sofia de la Vega to be precise. In the Lycanthrope world, they were almost the international equivalent of the Bales based on shear number alone. In terms of Lycanthrope Geekdom, Quinn could claim he just scored the fucking motherload. Recovering, Quinn lit up his cigarette, the scent of cloves hanging in the air and the werewolf leaned toward her across the table, "...The de la Vega's?" The Watcher asked softly, so softly that only supernatural hearing would be able to pick it up on the streets.
Tossing her head back, Sofia laughed heartily. There was simply something about the way that he said it. And...then she sobered slowly, her thoughts turning to her pack and those memories tended to be bittersweet these days. "Yes," she said finally, her voice taking on a teasing note as she echoed him. "The de la Vegas." It did beg the question, however, why she was alone. While members of the pack were free - generally speaking, within reason - to come and go as they wished, very rarely did they travel alone. And a female descendent of the founding family? It was practically unheard of for her to be without a bodyguard...or five. That had always been a pet peeve of Sofia's. It had only gotten worse once Zeke had chosen her to be his mate. There wasn't anywhere she could go that he didn't have eyes following her. It had made escape nearly impossible. That was one reason she'd had to wait until the day of the wedding, when everyone in the pack, his spies included, had been preoccupied. Even now, though, she sometimes got the feeling she was being watched, though she'd taken the utmost care to escape detection and to cover her tracks thus far. Nursing her coffee, her gaze landed on his and she leaned back once more in her chair. The Bales, she could trust. This one who seemed to recognize her family name? She had to weigh the possibility that he might become a problem.
Quinn smiled at her laugh, she had a good one and it was contagious. He chuckled just before taking a drag off the cigarette and noticed her change in mood. Falling silent, Quinn studied Sofia about as much as she was him. What the hell was she doing so far from home and, apparently, alone.
A stare down? For some reason, that amused her as well...but who would look away first? Was it another subtle play for dominance? No, it wasn't that serious. With a small grin she glanced down at the table. "You mentioned you're not a pureblood. Do you mind if I ask what happened?"
Quinn grinned just after he took another pull off the cigarette, staring back at Sofia. She looked away first, a small surprise to Quinn...not that the staring contest was to be taken seriously or anything. The grin softened and then eventually disappeared at the she-wolf's question. With his free hand, Quinn ran it through his hair, sighing and looking out at the street, "This is going to sound corny," He glanced to her, a wry grin on his face again before he returned his attention to the street, "But my family is cursed."
"Cursed." It wouldn't have been surprising if she'd laughed, if only because that was such a vague explanation. She was certain, at some point or another, she'd felt the same about her own family. However, she realized that he didn't mean quite the same thing. For a fraction of a second as she returned her gaze to him, her eyes flashed a luminous, silvery blue far different from the clear, crystalline topaz blue they were usually. "What sort of curse is it?"
Quinn was silent for a while, taking a couple more drags on the cigarette before finally answering. The werewolf kept his gaze trained on the street and pedestrians, "All the males in my family are cursed because of something that my great-great-whatever did 200 years ago." Details had become sketchy after a certain point in time, due to a house fire. Whatever records his family had been keeping were lost and incomplete. Quinn ground his teeth in frustration, dropping the last of his cigarette to the ground and grinding it out.
Inherently saddled with the beast, yet not of pure blood. How very interesting. Even more so was the fact that the curse was so pervasive through his family's lineage. At some point in time, someone in his family had obviously royally pissed off someone with a lot of power. Or so it would seem. Sounds to me as if perhaps it's the women in your family who are cursed, was what she wanted to say, but instead, she merely asked, "Do you have a large family? You said that you're alone now. Did the men in your family never band together?" On her own or not, the pack mentality and the concept of familial bonds were strong within her. Being without hers was almost a physical pain at times, as if a part of her had been amputated.
Quinn turned his gaze back to Sofia, picking up his coffee cup and taking a sip. "I was close with my family before the change. After..." The werewolf lifted a shoulder in a stiff shrug, "...I ran away soon after and ended up joining The Razorbacks."
Now, there was something that gave Sofia a pause. While the name didn't send a shiver down her spine, she did sit up a little straighter, looking at Quinn in a somewhat different light. "Hm." Her gaze slid away from his, back to the bike, beyond that. She knew the pack's reputation. It was an ephemeral thing - not something that had ever kept her awake at night, but people talked and The Razorbacks were not the sort of wolves to be easily dismissed. Never had she imagined crossing any of their paths and, certainly, not while she was alone. Rumor had it, however, that their ranks had been largely decimated and Quinn himself had said he was alone...now. To top it all off, he didn't give off a particularly dangerous vibe. Looks could be deceptive. She knew that better than most.
Quinn was dangerous, although probably not in the meaning that Sofia was thinking. He didn't consciously choose to be "dangerous" anymore whereas years ago, the werewolf wouldn't have thought twice. But Quinn had worked very hard at curbing and controlling years of...delinquency. Since he was 13 years old, he had no one but The Razorbacks as family when he ran away until Hunters had nearly wiped the pack out when Quinn was 18. Now, Quinn was only dangerous during the three days of the full moon, which the werewolf went out of his way to protect himself and others.
Noting the little, "Hm," Sofia had said and with a sigh, Quinn ran a hand through his hair, "I'm not with them anymore. Well..." He paused, a hint of guilt showing through, "...What's left of them." Which, last he heard, was only a few excluding himself. The werewolf left out the little tidbit that when he had been their Alpha. With any luck, they thought he was dead.
"I didn't say anything," Sofia pointed out, but there was a hint of a rueful grin upon her glossy lips. "I supposed I'm not the only one with a reputation to deal with." She finally returned her attention to him and shrugged lightly. "I don't think we have a problem." After a second, her smile grew and she lifted her coffee cup to him in a mock toast. "Then again...buying a stranger a cup of coffee? That was pretty badass of you."
The werewolf modestly chuckled, looking down to the table, "I wouldn't say badass..." Quinn glanced back up at her, "Gutsy might be a better description." Lifting his cup, he toasted Sofia back before taking another sip of coffee.
"Not complaining. I do have a slight addiction." Finishing off her second cup, she folded her magazine and scooted back in her chair, the legs lightly scraping the bricks below. She stood, slightly over 6 feet tall in her heels, and regarded him for a moment. "Do you run?"
"Uh..." Quinn regarded her as she stood. It was an odd question to ask, "...two hours every day." The werewolf paused and warily asked, "...Why?" Looking up at her from his chair.
She started at that...and then hesitated. "I'm...not sure we're talking about the same thing." Or were they? It was possible. Sofia loved the freedom, but she wasn't sure she could do it every night, and even so, she never limited herself on time. "I'm not talking about...jogging...or...exercise." She seemed to have to search for the right words. She gazed off into the distance, in the direction of the mountains, and asked again. "Do you run?"
Yeah...definitely out of the pack dynamic for too long, Quinn thought to himself. With some chagrin, the werewolf shook his head, "Uh...no. Not at anymore. It's too dangerous for me to be free during those few days."
"Hm." She did have a tendency to make that thoughtful little noise from time to time. Especially when there was something worth thinking about. "That's unfortunate." And it really was. While she enjoyed the freedom, she wasn't completely opposed to...companionship. Of course, last time she'd crossed one of her own kind, it had been Ben...and they'd ended up going at each other like wild animals. Literally. "That's really too bad." She picked up her things, turned and tossed the cup into a nearby trashcan, and then glanced back at him. "Interesting meeting you, Quinn Draper. Maybe we'll cross paths again."
Quinn wasn't so sure how "unfortunate" it would be if Sofia knew what he was capable of when roaming free. The uncontrollable rage and hunger were a part of the curse, not just the change during the full moon. "Yeah...maybe..." Quinn watched her and then after a moment, "The Sugar Shack. If you ever want to find me. Just give one of the employee's my name."