Quinn hadn't really thought about what sort of living space Scarlet might have. Oh, he'd seen what Shadi had, but that was as much a mask as the blonde wig and the vapid expression. Scarlet was still something of an enigma - although one that he'd enjoy unraveling - and the small building in a nice but nondescript part of the city was a surprising choice. Not the kind of place he'd have guessed a successful and well-paid assassin would take. Certainly not what the holovids would have you believe. But then, according to the holovids, his living quarters should be ankle deep in liquor and whores.
The space was... spartan. It wasn't a large place, but it had crisp lines and an open floor plan. Much like her room at the Velvet Spire, it was devoid of personal touch, just distressed concrete walls and pale wood flooring. A wraparound couch took up most of the living area, with the foot of a large bed peeked out from the other side of the wall separating the room. Projected on the windows was lakeside scenery. The kind of living quarters maintained by someone accustomed to minimal personal possessions. The kind of place he'd grown up in, and that he was comfortable with. Which raised all sorts of interesting questions. If he searched, would he find a small satchel with her two or three most prized possessions, and a weapon, and a few essential tools? The sort of thing that he maintained, everywhere he went?
Who was Scarlet, he wondered. Who had she been, once upon a time? Clearly, he'd have to find out.
"So, what did you want to drink?" She called form the small, functional kitchen, examining her fridge.
"Dunno," he called back, turning to watch her pull a stocky purple bottle out of the fridge. "What do you have?"
"I have some spiced rum, a bottle of white wine, and brandy."
He pursed his lips in thought as she placed the bottle on the counter and headed towards a door. "Some water, actually. And then some of the rum," he decided. "Rehydrate a little, before I get back to drinking." A quick grin. "Helps with the hangover." He found the glasses and poured both of them two fingers of rum and himself a full pint of water. The water went down twice before he was even ready to consider the liquor once more. By then, Scarlet had emerged from the bathroom.
She was magnificent. Nothing about Shadi was unappealing, of course. And he'd seen her without her wig or contacts just last night. But her fiery hair was a wild mane of tangled curls, and her eyes glittered like emeralds, and her stance and walk had changed. Shadi strutted, displaying herself as a professional advertisement. But Scarlet prowled, a sleek and dangerous jungle beast. He watched her, desire and admiration frankly displayed in his expression, and then slid a glass over to her. "Comfortable?"
"I am. You could probably stand to be a little more comfortable, though, couldn't you?" She slinked over to him running finders over the hem of his jacket before hooking her thumbs on the inside, pulling it off his shoulders and hanging it up in the discrete closet off to the side of the bathroom. Her eyes traced the firm lines of his figure, not hiding her appreciation as her glance made its way back up to his face. "Yes, much better," she declared, her fingers brushing his as she accepted a glass. "So, how many more drinks do you think it's going to take to get you out of the rest of that suit?"
Quinn sipped his drink and made a show of contemplating the question. "About twice as many as it'll take to get you out of that dress," he decided, letting his eyes trace the collection of panels and straps that made up her outfit. "Alcohol lowers inhibitions, after all. And since I'm wearing more clothes it'll take more effort to lower mine..."
He swirled the rum in his glass, contemplating. "Now, as a gentleman, I simply can't allow myself to take advantage of you and the clear fact that it'll take less effort to get you naked. So..." he took a drink. "I'll need to get started first. That was one." Another swallow. "Two. And now, your turn..."
He took a drink, holding it in his mouth as he slapped the glass down on the counter and pulled her close. His lips were peppery from the spiced liquor, and the sharp taste of the alcohol accompanied his tongue as it slipped into her mouth. He pressed her back against the counter as he let the drink flow into her mouth and dribble down her chin as he kissed her. His hands, hard and callused from years of fighting, were rough on her skin as he explored her shape, but his tongue was soft on chin and throat as he lapped errant rivulets of rum from her skin.
"Almost enough," he murmured, voice husky with desire. Pressing his body against her, licking his lips at the feel of her curves against him, he groped blindly for his glass. Finding it, he raised it to his lips and drank. "One," he said, letting her taste the peppery heat as he kissed her. "Two," he declared, sloshing the glass and eying it critically.
He brought it to her lips, his cheek against hers as he did. "Your turn," he murmured, tipping it. The liquid splashed out, coating her mouth and chin, running down her throat and into the valley between her breasts. "How clumsy of me," he declared insincerely, a wicked glint in his eye. "Here, let me..."
Lips traced her chin and down her throat, and he moaned against her flesh as he savored her flavor mixed with that of the rum. Pressing her back further, arching her back, he worked down to her collarbone. Then his teeth scraped gently over the swell exposed cleavage, and his tongue followed the path of a rivulet of liquor.
Then he grinned up at her. "Well, hell," he laughed, examining a tiny damp spot on his shirt. "Guess I'll have to take it off..." He peeled the shirt away and tossed it aside, revealing lean muscles and a few scars, a testament to the life he'd led. Unexpectedly, his right pectoral, shoulder, and upper arm were covered with a single elaborate tattoo. An abstract thing of tribal design, all swirls and arcs picked out crimson and sapphire with black highlights. It rippled and seemed to shimmer as he picked up his glass and refilled it. "Care to wager on who'll be naked first?"
"Ah, wager. Yes, let's do that." She grinned up at him mischievously. "Let's see...the first person naked gets to call the shots. Sound good?" Her fingers wrapped around the bottle of rum and brought it over his lips.
"So, let's take a drink," she announced, bringing the bottle up to his lips, with the same care he did, letting the alcohol pool in his mouth and drip down his chin and chest. Quinn had enjoyed his version of "let's take a drink". But he found he enjoyed Scarlet's version just as much - if not more. The rum was cool on his skin and her tongue was hot and the contrast made him shiver with delight.
As her mouth found his once more, she stuck out her tongue to meet his outside their mouths, and poured more liquor over their outstretched tongues, clumsily splattering their mouths and lips. Teasing turned into an alcohol-soaked kiss, rum trickling down both of their bodies now.
