Quentin managed a chuckle at that, and only his head moved as he did so, not wanting to mess up Lauren working on his back. It was true though, Quentin was meeting so many "out" supernaturals here than he ever would have back home. It made sense, given that here he could say he was psychic and not have it come back to haunt him - in Kennebunkport, his parents couldn't stand the idea that they had a son who was "different." He was amazed that they hadn't officially thrown their weight in with the anti-supernatural rights supporters, but that would require them to acknowledge that they actually existed.
"That's the hope," he said, "because I've heard things through the grapevine, too. If I could set up a showing for my work, that's the best foot in the door you could have, you know? There's got to be a place in Ann Arbor, seeing as Scarlet Oak's a bit small for that kind of thing." One shoulder lifted in a half-shrug. "I'm really bad with directions, so that's probably why I haven't found the place yet. I could drive around for hours and think I was getting somewhere, and in reality be like two blocks away from my apartment." At least Quentin was upfront and honest about his lack of directional skills. He'd lived in town how long now and he still barely knew his way around.