It wasn't like Quentin's money situation came complete with rainbows and sunshine and unicorns, after all. Coming from a rich family meant he was financially stable, but with all the responsibilities that came with it - responsibilities he was never going to live up to. With Kevin gone and Renee turning out to like chicks more than dudes, he knew he was, in theory, supposed to inherit the marina after his father died. His dad would roll in his grave before he let that happen, not to mention the fact that Quentin wanted nothing to do with it, but that was besides the point. The threat was still there, regardless. At least here in Michigan, he could pretend it wasn't, and that was more than enough for him.
Hearing her response, though, snapped Quentin out of his little moment and had him grinning. It was always nice to find someone who was more into the actual practice of art, rather than trying to look cool in front of other people. "Not me, I'd die without my sketchbook," he said. "Probably have two or three of them in the car outside, at least. Got to keep some traditions alive, after all." Finished with the brush he held, he put it back in its spot on the shelf and turned to face her properly. "Of course, this is assuming that you also use sketchbooks," he pointed out. "Oh, and I'm Quentin. And you are, fellow artist...?"