[center][color=AFEEEE][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjE0Mi4wODhkYmEuVVhWcGJtNGdSR2xoYlc5dVpBLCwuMAAA/underworld.regular.png[/img][/color]
[color=AFEEEE]Location:[/color] The Caldwell Penthouse
[color=AFEEEE]Interacting with:[/color] A Drunkard [@lovely complex] and The Cool Roomie [@SouffleGirl123]

[hr][img]http://i.imgur.com/jceOeVr.png[/img][hr]

New York at night was practically a different city and definitely the version of New York that Quinn preferred. When the sun was up everything seemed more...muted. Dull. As if people were only about to go about their days, taking the subway to office jobs or the tourists in Times Square being wowed that it looks just like it does in the movies and television shows. It's the same as any city, really, the sun comes with certain responsibilities and expectations that makes urban living more of a chore and a bore than anything else. Why else would all the movies have the best parts happen after dark?

Quinn was not immune to the chore and bore of morning city life. By the time she returned to her shared apartment it was after her roommate had left. Quinn called out to her but, after getting no answer, shrugged her shoulders and did what she stopped by to do. A warm shower. Air drying. Opening up a window and smoking - Josie once mentioned the smell of smoke and her dislike of it and Quinn was not so much of an asshole as to spit smoke in Josie's face. It didn't stop Quinn from smelling of cigarette smoke, but she hoped it would at least make the apartment not smell to high heavens. Of all the room mates Quinn had had over the years, Josie was probably the one she liked having the most. Quinn had no eye for fashion or the like but anyone with that hair and that nose piercing was someone Quinn could hang with. 

By the time she was dressed the sun was high overhead. Quinn's attire was business casual, which was a fancy way of saying she wore a suit jacket with a pair of slacks. There was no dress code for [i]Out There[/i], the alternative life style magazine she copy edited at, but Quinn still liked to at least look like she gave a shit about a job. Plus people on the subway always gave her looks when she wore her fancy shit, and at least one person asked if she was doing a Bob Dylan impression. 

When Quinn reported to her small little desk in the Out There offices, it wasn't long before she was hounded by [hider=Kris Halich, a regular article writer and columnist for the magazine.][img]http://i.imgur.com/nxcjKQ2.jpg[/img][/hider] In most cases Quinn got along well with Kris, and Kris took an interest in Quinn's whole vibe, sensing a kindred spirit at first before Quinn made it clear after a night of incredibly unprofessional behavior between co-workers that she wasn't like Kris but respected and supported her cause and decision. 

[color=violet]"Was she worth it?"[/color] Kris asked with her arm resting atop Quinn's cubicle wall. 

[color=AFEEEE]"She had a dog. Has a dog."[/color] Quinn responded without taking her eyes off the documents on her desk, the morning's task no doubt. 

[color=violet]"Bitch."[/color]

[color=AFEEEE]"I think it was a male, actually."[/color] 

[color=violet]"Even worse. Anyway, thought you should know that the E.I.C. took us off the Dream Up Festival. We can still go, but it wouldn't be as press. You interested?"[/color] Kris was clearly hoping for a positive answer.

[color=AFEEEE]"Does it have to be tonight? I've got a thing..."[/color] A lie, sure, but Quinn wanted anything other than to attend a theater festival that wasn't showing any of her material. The same material she'll one day get around to submitting somewhere. 

[color=violet]"It goes until the eighteenth. You should find time to go with me some day. You're a writer, right? I can introduce you to some people. Let me know, Quinn, I'm not just your associate, I'm your friend."[/color] Kris gently knocked on the cubicle wall before leaving to finish her own article. Quinn went back to work, the monotony ending only when the work day did. 


The night was young as Quinn made her way down the sidewalk with no clear destination in mind. She wanted to grab some food, maybe from some shitty pizza joint, but she was open to ideas as she nursed the cigarette in her mouth. A night without plans means a night open to possibilities, and one happened to knock as she was walking past the apartments for trust fund kiddies and old creeps with their young gold loving lovers. Standing outside the place, with lights and sounds coming from the highest floor, was the familiar pink hair. 

[color=AFEEEE]"Oh shit, is that you, Josie? Small city, isn't it?"[/color] Quinn threw an arm around Josie for a quick side hug before nodding towards the clearly tipsy Jasper. [color=AFEEEE]"Your party? Shit, I don't care if I'm not on the guest list, I'm going up. If you're allowed in, I'm a damn VIP."[/color]

Quinn released her grasp on Josie and put out her cigarette with a flick to the ground beside her. [color=AFEEEE]"You wanna be my Plus One, Josie? Any good party crasher needs a co-crasher."[/color] 

A party in a loft? A bit out of her wheelhouse, preferring the more frantic and thumping parties of the lower class rejects and forgotten, but even the wealthy funders could benefit greatly from Quinn's presence. Besides, it was bound to be more fun a night than grabbing something from Sbarro's and wondering where it all went wrong to end up in a fucking Sbarro's.[/center]