“Yeah, well, tough shit,” she said as she took the flask, flashing him a winning smile, carefully manufactured to make her look approachable. “You drink my liquor, you deal with my company.” She took another swig before setting it down in the sand beside them. She left it upright, slightly buried in the wet sand, with the cap placed on top but not screwed. The message was clear. If he wanted more, he could have it. She eyed him carefully, calculating what type of conversation was likely to get her the best results. He was clearly down in the dumps about something and would much rather be alone to deal with it. Flirting and joking were out. She thought back to her early conversations with Sam. Yes, that particular character would probably work. A good mix of independence, tough love, and sympathy with just a dash of playing hard to get.
“So, Quinn,” she said with familiarity, though she softened her voice to something much more consoling than it had been before. “Why are you lonely?” She didn’t ask why he wanted to be lonely. She asked why he was. Clearly his statement indicated that he’d have been lonely no matter where he went, and the empty beach just happened to make that acceptable. He was missing someone. Significant other? Family? She couldn’t be sure. “Good looking guy like you shouldn’t be lonely.” It was a flirtatious statement, but she didn’t deliver it as such. She said it without inflection, as an honest compliment, hoping to draw him out.