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[color=8dc73f]LOCATION[/color] — [color=8dc73f]QUINN'S ROOM.[/color]
[color=8dc73f]INTERACTING WITH[/color] — N/A.[hr]

[hider=(1) New Voice Message][i]The line was practically full of noises, between the television in the background and the insistent wailing of a car siren in the near distance. "Hey, Daphne. I was..." a pause, a shuffle, a bitter laugh. "I was.. I was thinking about it and um-" 

His words are slurring, he's moving around a lot. He's obviously drunk, it's something she would be far too used to hearing. "You got me real fucked up about this and I'm- I'm not sure you know what kind of mistake that you're making. Fucking [b]Darien[/b]-"

Another bitter laugh, the clink of a bottle. "[b]Darien.[/b]
I have [b]never[/b] met a Darien that I have [b]ever[/b] liked. Like, I hate to be a downer but-" not only is he slurring now, he's kind of muffled, he has started smoking mid-sentence. There's a deep inhale, a deep exhale. "I think that's a bad omen, don't you? That I've never met a Darien that I liked, like some kind of fuckin' statistic or some shit. There's no good people with that name. It's just-"

A cough, a pause, liquid sloshing. "Okay, maybe you don't trust the word of a drunk loser but-" bitter laugh. "Of course, you fuckin' liked the opinion of a drunk loser when you were in Cali. Do you remember that? I remember that. I remember that a lot."

Another cough, more sloshing liquid, more coughing. "God, we were so fuckin' happy, Daphne. We were-" he sounds angry now, a bottle hitting the floor sharply. "I got your Goddamn intial tattooed on my fuckin' neck! You have [b]my[/b] Goddamn initial-" more coughing, wheezing. "And you threw it all away. What did I [b]do[/b], Daphne?"

His voice breaks, there's a lot of noises for a moment. He's pacing even more, he's puffing aggressively on the unseen cigarette. "You-" the line becomes muffled. "Nevermind, Daphne, happy fuckin' wedding. I hope he's everything you ever fuckin' dreamed and more."

Liquid sloshing again, he's obviously picked his bottle back up. "I'll RSVP-" coughing, sputtering. "I'll-"
He sounds strangely miserable. "Seeya there, Daphne."[/i][/hider]

[i]Las Vegas, Nevada.[/i]
The city was saturated in smoke and lights. His headlights, his cigarette.
The radio was going out on him again, the sound of Arcade Fire was fading into static and the car was filled with terrible silence. He hated silence, silence gave him time to think and if he was thinking then he had time to get angry about this all again. He punched the radio, cracked the glass on the front of it and it sputtered at him. He punched it again, it didn't seem to respond much after that. He heard his own frustrated exhale, smoke rose from between his lips and out of his nostrils. [i]Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.[/i]

Four hours. He had been driving for four hours. Plane tickets were expensive, it was cheaper to drive. He had been listening to the same Arcade Fire album for [i]four hours.[/i] The radio had been his only solace in this trip and now it was down for the count. He was frustrated, he wanted to punch it until it coughed up music again but now he was stuck in silence. The only sounds around him were the sounds of the road, and the sounds of the road just made him feel muted and miserable. Inhale smoke, exhale smoke. Drop the ash into the styrofoam cup beside him.

The coffee in the cup holder beside him was cold and full of cigarette ash. He had taken two sips of that coffee before his stomach had become violently ill and he'd had to wretch up all of it's contents onto the side of the road. The cigarette clutched between his fingers was trembling, a thin tail of smoke was curling up towards the tattered ceiling of his car. He could see a steady trail of ants marching across his dashboard to a half eaten snack-cake from an hour ago. 
[i]He was a wreck.[/i]

He dropped his cigarette into the cold coffee, let it sizzle out there and he fumbled for another one. He stuffed the next cigarette between his lips, brandished his lighter and lit the tip. He inhaled smoke, he exhaled smoke. There was a bad feeling settling over him again, he had been hoping to drown it out in cigarettes and music. There was no more music and he was running out of cigarettes.

[i]Why was he coming here?[/i]
Simple answer, [i]she[/i] had invited him. Complicated answer, [i]he[/i] had some ridiculous hope that he could change the course of events as they happened. After draining a bottle of vodka the night before, he had come to the brilliant idea that he could win her back. It had seemed like a great plan at the time, now it was starting to seem like a split second decision made by alcohol. It was funny how that happened, it was funny how he thought he was responsible enough to make grown-up decisions when he was still doing shit like that.

[i]Marriage.[/i]
It was a word that tasted like blood in his mouth, [i]marriage didn't work[/i]. The pieces never fit together like they ought to. You couldn't just tie two people together forever and expect it to [i]work[/i], people had urges, people [i]cheated[/i], people- It was just so [i]unexpected.[/i] She had always talked marriage with that same disdain that he did, she hadn't ever seemed like she'd wanted a husband. Maybe that meant something, maybe this invitation was her hint to him that it was only [i]with him[/i] that she couldn't picture forever.

Maybe he was only coming here to drive himself insane. He didn't know any of these people, he had never met any of them. He knew their names and he knew little snippets of things that [i]she[/i] had told him. He was a stranger amongst strangers, just Daphne's estranged college friend. They didn't know him, he didn't know them. That should have made him more hesitant. It should have put his nerves on end, it should have made this alcohol-fueled decision seem even crazier. 
Luckily, Quinn was not a guy that was easily deterred. 

Anyway, despite all his anger, despite all his misery, Daphne was [i]home.[/i] [i]Home[/i], in the sense that wherever she was, that was [i]home[/i] for him. He had watched her walk away once, he wasn't about to watch her walk away again, not without a fight. No, this time wasn't going to be that easy, this time he was going to convince her to stay. That was the plan, at least, he was still working out the kinks.

The rest of the drive was like that, nothing but silence and the turmoil of his own thoughts. A cigarette between his fingers, cold coffee swiring with ash, the rest of the ride was silent but Quinn's mind was very loud.
[hr]
He could see the hotel as it came into view, as grand and as beautiful as he would expect of her. She had been born into money, [i]she[/i] was used to fine things. [i]He[/i] wasn't so used to fine things, the sight of it was a little bit intimidating to him. He took a moment to watch the people that were entering and exiting the hotel. He needed a moment to size them up, a moment to see what he was dealing with. The car was safe, he was anonymous in the car.

Once he stepped out of the car, he had to put on his game face. He fumbled a new cigarette out of his emptying case, placed it in his mouth and lit the end. He smoked like that for a good few minutes, just watching people as they passed. He had rode the last hour out in silence, he was content to spend a few more moments in that silence. People entered, people exited. Some watched him suspiciously, locked their cars up noticeably at the sight of him, others didn't even notice him. He liked the ones who didn't notice him.

He waited, he waited, he waited. 
Finally, he drew himself up, dropped the cigarette into the cold coffee and opened the car door. He said a mute goodbye to the car that had been keeping him safe and he made his walk into the hotel. He checked in, didn't stick around to talk at the front desk, though he did crack a joke or two about the prices and then he walked to his room. It went like clock work, it went smooth. 

He checked his pack of cigarettes, counted three and dismissed the frustrated urge to groan in the middle of the hotel hallway. He unlocked the bedroom door, he stepped inside and he counted his cigarettes again. He counted three. There were still three, that was still frustrating. He paced for a moment, checked his phone, ignored the urge to respond to Daphne. He paced again, he freed a new cigarette from the pack.

He walked out to the balcony, lit up and- 
He saw [i]her.[/i]
Beautiful, with dark hair and brown eyes. A face that he had remembered down to the curve of her nose. She looked the same, seeing her now was different than a photo or a memory. It twisted something inside of his chest, it made him remember why he'd come here all along. It made it hard to keep his mouth from curving into a smile. 

Soundlessly, he raised his hand in greeting.
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