Paragon - Chapter 20: Chapter 20

"Fletcher. How many people did you think were having dinner besides me?" Quinn, asked incredulously looking at the vast containers inside the paper bags.
I reassessed the contents. I'd simply ordered one of everything in case she had preference. Were mortals not selective about their food? It did crowd the low table in the living room quite a bit...
"Well, now you can select what you want." I said simply.
"That's what a menu is for." She palmed her face and laughed.
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "I haven't used a menu properly in a hundred years."
She was still laughing even when she started plucking out various different cuisines with a grin. I cautiously took a seat at the other end of the large L sofa.
"Crispy seaweed oh my god." She groaned, pulling out a disturbingly dark green substance.
"You can eat that?"
"What else would they give it to you for?" Quinn smirked, as she flicked a much more luscious set of green irises on me. It wasn't marginally comparable to that hideous food.
"Decoration." I uttered dryly.
She looked more curiously at me. "Surely people would start to notice you don't eat or drink anything?"
"I eat and drink things all the time." I told her honestly. Her eyes widened. "I just have to see them again at the end of the day."
"Okay, that was exactly what I didn't need to hear before I eat." She concluded, cutting her eyes back to a square box and securing a pair of chop sticks. I chuckled and leant my arms back over the chair.
"What is your favourite?"
She sank a mouthful of noodles into her mouth and nodded. Then finally looked to me with a raised eyebrow. "Thai or Vietnamese. I can never decide."
"Interesting."
"What about you–errr never mind." She correctly quickly, turning back to the vegetable soaked noodles.
I smiled darkly in return. Then leant forward to rest my elbows on my knees as I watched her. She caught my eye suspiciously.
"I'm looking at it."
"That's not funny." She said around several noodles.
I grinned. "Such a professional lawyer yet a complete lack of manners outside the office."
She rolled her eyes and set down the chopsticks. "I know how to entertain clients, detective. You aren't one of them. Besides, I don't need to impress you–you already are impressed."
I scoffed.
She smirked.
She was right.
"Tell me something." I began, watching her pick up another box and pluck out the contents.
"I'm all ears."
"Do you ever go on any of the adventures you send your parents on?" I asked, interested in the way she so casually relaxed in the home of an immortal predator.
Her gaze cut back to me quickly. She swallowed and brought a napkin up to her mouth. Her full lips. I focused on her eyes again.
"Sometimes. I suppose not as much as I'd like to."
"Is it your work?"
She seemed to consider this for far longer than was necessary. Something was hidden in that far away look and I wanted to know the secrets behind it. I let her take a few more moments when I was sure she wouldn't say anything, she spoke.
"No. It's not work." She murmured in a lower tone. One that told me the answer was not pleasant. "When I was younger–my real parents–" She sighed and dragged a hand through her hair like she didn't have the energy for the emotions she knew were always there.
"Forget I asked." I supplied for her, instantly relaxing from my questioning.
But she surprised me and shook her head. "It's okay. Really. My parents were well off. They chartered a plane to get away for a week while I was still in boarding school. They didn't come back." She finished, devoid of emotion in her usually bright eyes.
I let out a breath and nodded minutely. "I'm sorry, Quinn." I murmured sincerely.
A plane crash was no way to get closure from any passing. One minute a phone call talking of holiday plans–the next a headline in fire and disaster. No wonder she travelled so rarely as a result now.
She gave me a quick nod in acknowledgement and then pushed the thoughts away a blink later.
"Come on, detective. Ask me something a bit more cheery than my sad origin story." She quipped, instantly melting back into that cool facade again. I frowned with a small smile.
"I have been the one to give you ample origin stories for one day–I deserved a small part of your own."
She leaned back in the chair, mirroring my own posture and crossed a leg over the other.
"Since you won't let me assault your surround sound anymore... I want to hear you use that thing." She deadpanned, glancing over at the grand piano near the glass windows.
Of all the things I expected her to say. This was the least likely.
"I don't have any music sheets." I responded lamely.
She threw me a flat look that said she didn't buy an ounce of my lies. She continued to wait. I finally sighed deeply and leaned my head back over the chair.
"What. Pray tell. Quinn Adams. Would you like me to play?" I said to the ceiling.
"What can you play?" She countered eagerly.
"Anything you would like. I just need to hear it."
"Oh this gives me so many ideas..." She muttered.
I threw my head up to catch her suspicious expression as she started flicking through her phone's music.
"If you make me compose a song from this century I will refuse." I told her flatly.
"Oh no, you said anything I would like."
"Quinn, the last owner of that piano created symphonies that still sound the halls of the Royal Albert. I am not about to sully it with twenty first century–"
"Found it. Come detective, I'll play it for you by your instrument." She grinned.
It was that beautiful grin that held your attention. Made you feel the same joy she held and brightened an entire room–perhaps I was just biased. I followed her to the piano either way. I took my time walking over to the piano stool and pulled it out with a glare while Quinn leant on the floor to ceiling glass.
"Please Quinn, nothing offensive–"
The surround sound played around us again and I was taken by surprise. For however many times today...
A lone piano filled the air. It's rhythm smooth yet not too melancholy. I listened intently as the notes dipped and peaked. The way they wove an interesting mood into the air. One that was almost hopeful yet anticipating. But not only that, I too looked at Quinn as she paced before the long glass windows and looked out at the city beyond. I had to wonder what the piece was to her.
"This part gets a little tricky." She said as she trailed a finger against the glass and the piano picked up into a more complex series of notes and tempo. But it was wonderful. It would suddenly cut itself back and return to its original mood seamlessly.
"Beautiful. I didn't consider you the sombre type, Adams." I mused with a smirk.
She flicked me the finger as she continued her pace before the window. I chuckled and continued to listen carefully to the way the music flowed. Noting every line I would play out in my head.
It finally ended and she turned to me with a curious look.
"Who composed that?" I found myself asking.
"Ludovico Einaudi. It's called Ancora and yes, Fletcher he was from this century." She grinned.
I shook my head and opened the ornate wood lid.
"You don't need to hear it again?" She asked in doubt.
"I guess we'll find out." I smirked, placing my fingers on the smooth keys.
I started slowly, recreating every pause and flow in the notes. Quinn watched me wordlessly from the window. I felt exposed but also hyperaware. I had never played for anyone but myself. It was invasive but in a way that didn't make me anxious and fearful. I realised I wanted to play it for her.
My fingers moved deftly with the practice of decades at the keys. Every note. Every emotion. I was caught up in trying to make it so perfect that I missed how near Quinn had become before she sat carefully next to me.
It took a lot of focus to keep focused on playing and not the warmth and sweet smell of her. But I was enjoying the way I caught her with a light smile in the corner of my eye. I could have played without looking at all but the keys were the only thing keeping me from meeting those stunning eyes. I wasn't entirely sure what would have happened with such a piece of music in the air and the way she was watching me now...
It felt like we were here for an eternity or no time at all. The music was wrapped around us in our own personal bubble of whatever this was. She hardly breathed at all but when she did I would notice sudden quick intakes when I performed complex sections flawlessly.
I started smiling when it happened again slightly louder. She nudged me lightly, knowing I heard. I briefly met her eyes as I continued to play and her own widened slightly. But she was still speechless. Whatever thoughts running through her were lost on me.
I set my eyes back down as I drew the piece to a final close. Softly and carefully finishing the notes the way I had heard them. I dropped my hands slowly and finally met Quinn's silent stare.
"Fletcher..." She began.
My work phone rang. We both flinched in surprise.
I looked at her apologetically and pulled my phone from my pocket quickly. I already debated playing the sick card on even thicker but when I lifted it to my head and Will spoke, I knew that was our evening at an end.
* * * * *
Quinn was still watching me closely as I listened to Will's rushed voice.
"Slow down, what do you need?" I asked calmly.
"I need my partner–at Tottenham station–yesterday." He panted heavily, I took note of the wind rushing by the phone.
"Are you chasing a suspect?" I demanded.
Quinn frowned next to me but kept still otherwise.
"I'm so close to–breaking this one–Fletch. I know it sounds crazy–at this time–"
"Okay stop. Before you use up all your oxygen." I drawled, hearing a car honk loudly down the phone. "I'm across the city. It will take me at least thirty minutes, can you hold out?"
"Guess I'll have to. I don't have a–warrant to call in the cavalry." He puffed.
"Stay alive, partner." I ended the call.
I turned to Quinn but she already raised her hand. "It's fine, it sounds important."
"Trust me, this is normally how Will works..."
She nodded and stood from the stool. Her scent relaxed its fire grip around my throat.
"We'll reschedule." She smirked. "And it looks like you still need to get dressed." She said glancing at my bare feet.
I rolled my eyes and stood too. "That's what happens when plans aren't made in advance."
"I'll be sure to do that next time." She said casually, sweeping her jacket off my chair and turning her head over her shoulder in an elegance no mortal should have. "And you owe me a skirt, detective." She deadpanned, turning back for the front door while my body froze over.
I will still standing there dumbly when she pulled it open and glanced once more at me before giving me a trademark grin and disappearing through it. The elevator dinged behind it and I finally decided to move again.
I pulled up my phone again.
"Jamerson, please pick me up as soon as possible."
I dropped the phone back into my pocket and ran for the walk in closet. New clothes and jackets later I emerged not smelling of the lawyer from head to toe. I took a deep breath and cleared my thoughts slightly. But I still sensed the presence of her on every inch of my home. Like she couldn't be escaped now.
I pulled my badge into my jacket and yanked the front door open.
"Secure room!" I called, activating the security sensors before pulling the door closed. I was never naive enough to keep that many priceless objects without proper protection... I didn't even need to think what Paragon's bunkers were like these days.
When the lift stopped in the underground parking, Jamerson was already pulled up in the dark business car with my door opened. I gave him a grateful smile and slipped inside.
We were on the road quickly and only ten minutes had passed since Will's rushed call. Whatever he had gotten himself into could wait twenty minutes. I tapped my foot impatiently and glanced at my blank screen.
"Still alive?" I texted.
"Our window is closing here. They leave this flat and they're in the wind."
"20 minutes." I replied.
"I have plates and an address but I might trail them on the road if it comes to it."
"Wait for me. You are no good to me led into the den of dealers."
"I'm looking at a den with some big players here tonight. We won't get another opportunity."
"There soon." I decided to leave it at that. Trying to persuade that man to wait would only encourage him to ignore it all together.
I glanced out the window seeing several people crowd into bars and restaurants. Sometimes I considered ditching the samaritan career and being something darker again. With my strength and appearance I could do just about anything. Have anything. Anyone. But I knew how it would tire. It always did. An endless cycle of the next hit of adrenaline or pretty thing.
Worthless to the eternal being. Nothing satisfying about that life other than when it ends. It was a shame that it took most of a mortal's life to realise the same thing. It took me a few decades.
Quinn pursued the lavish career and spent it on her foster parents. Yes, she had a nice town house, a touch of sleek decor and a sharp suit but where she spent her time outside the office did not match that at all. An underground gym I had mistaken for a drug den? Walking into the dive of a bar my station had selected with complete confidence like it was a regular affair... She was still an anomaly.
Perhaps that's what drew me in. Mortals never surprised me.
She did.