Quinn's apartment.

::Basil and Quinn step into the apartment. It's small and basic - just one bedroom, bathroom, and a living room with a kitchen in one corner. The furniture is also sparse.::

"Well then. Cosy, but I think it should suit your needs."

::Cozy is putting it lightly. The apartment is cramped - but it's certainly the best deal in town. A wide-eyed Quinn walks in behind Sir Basil.::

"Furnished too? How useful."

::He nods politely to his new landlord.::

"Thank you, sir, this will do just fine."

"I'm glad to hear it. Here's your key -"

::He hands it over.::

"And I hope you'll come straight to me with any problems."

::Basil gives Quinn a nod and goes back to his office.::

::With a sigh of relief, Quinn closes the door behind Basil and sets his backpack down on the single sofa in the room. He walks in a little circle around the room. Touching this, stroking that - really just getting a feel for the apartment. It might be a tiny box - but it's his very own.

His first act is to unzip his backpack and take out his most prized possession: a really hi-tech camera. The type used to shoot beautiful landscapes or real models (i.e. not the losers off ANTM). Quinn starts to tinker with his camera.

But after a few minutes, Quinn becomes very aware of the strangest of noises. What seems like a series of continuous thuds. At first, he thinks it's just people having really hard lesbian sex (he blushes at the thought). But eventually, the sound becomes so noticeable - and rather disruptive. He walks into the building's hallway to discover the source of the noise.::

::A very frazzled Quinn slams the apartment door shut behind him. He leans with his body against it, literally shaking in terror from the encounter with Danika Mandragoran. He can't quite figure out how she created blast waves from the palm of her hands. After all, such things are quite impossible. Thus, believing this, Quinn's mind sets about making plausible excuses for it all.::

(Must have been a trick of the light. And I must've just tripped and fell.)

"The human mind has an amazing capacity to lie to itself."

::It sneering comment sounds like Quinn's voice, but the brunette isn't thinking the thought.::

"Here, at the mirror."

::The cheap Heroes/Spiderman 1 plotline knock-off walks over to the nearby mirror as he is told. An utterly bewildered Quinn sees a person who looks exactly like him, but isn't him at all. The reflection in the mirror moves entirely of his own accord.::

"You pussy - got your ass handed to you by a woman."

::Quinn's too freaked out to even talk. He grabs his wallet & keys and tears out to the streets at top speed.::

::Quinn walks back into his place, feeling quite a lot better after the short-lived-but-kinda-fun encounter with his neighbor. Figuring he should do some work before the snow stops falling, Quinn grabs his coat, boots, and of course his camera - and heads back out to the hallway.::

::Quinn and his new friend, Dean, step into the photographer's apartment. It is as small a space as ever, but very very clean, since Quinn has hardly spent any time inside it. He takes off his coat and hangs it up in the closet before turning to Dean and reaching out a hand for his.::

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"Coffee. Lots of."

::Dean looks around while handing Quinn his jacket.::

"Make yourself at home."

::Quinn walks off into the kitchen, where - to his great excitement - he discovers an espresso maker tucked away in the corner. At once he sets about making two cups of delicious coffee. He sets the machine going before walking back to the living room. He watches Dean, a hint of nervousness in his crossed-arm stance.::

"So, what do you think?"

"Of your apartment?"

::Dean shrugs non-committally.::

"It's... nice."

"Thanks."

::Quinn takes it as a genuine compliment. The café is ready, so he readily serves it up on two little espresso cups. Grabbing a few packages of spelnda, Quinn carries the tray out to the living room.::

"Coffee's ready!"

"Excellent. I need it."

::Dean takes a seat on the sofa and rests one arm along its back, pulling his left foot up onto his right knee. He watches Quinn for a minute before glancing around again.::

"So is this what freelance photography's all about?"

"It's more than just shooting gruesome murder scenes."

::Quinn's face grows excited. Setting down his coffee, he pulls out his camera and takes a seat on the couch next to Dean. Sitting close enough to allow Dean to see through the small LCD screen at the back of the cam also means the back of Quinn's head accidentally brushes against Dean's arm.::

"These are some of the pictures I took during that freak snow storm earlier. And that's my first front page photo."

::The photographer's face glows as he shows Dean the prized picture. He turns his gaze towards the man, wondering what kind of feedback he would give.::

"Wow. That's... great!"

::Dean really doesn't know anything about photography. He can't tell the difference between amateur snapshots and professional art. It's not that he doesn't think they're important, just that they all seem the same level of quality to him, unless it's obvious like they're blurred or have somebody's finger in the top corner of them.::

"Very impressive."

::Quinn nods enthusiastically. But he stops after a moment, tilts his head sideways, and stares at Dean with narrowed eyes and a hint of smile.::

(He seems just a little bit too impressed.)

"You can't tell the differences between the good pictures and the bad ones, can you?"

::Quinn doesn't mind though. He simply enjoys the fact that Dean thinks he takes pretty pictures. The photographer suddenly slides back on the couch and puts the camera to his eye. *Snap*!::

"Uhhh!"

::Dean groans, covering his face while leaning away.::

"Asshole."

::He crushes shut his eyes, the flash on Quinn's camera having been particularly potent.::

"I don't wanna see that."

::Quinn snickers, switching the camera to the picture viewing mode.::

"Hmm."

::He looks at the picture, then up at Dean. He fixes the man with a look of faux pity.::

"Well. It's not bad..."

"What? Let me see that."

::Dean goes to snatch the camera.::

"Nuh-uh!"

::Quinn snatches the camera out of reach. He scoots further on the couch, trying to get out of Dean's reach.::

"Hmm."

::Dean gives in, lazier than he is playful.::

"I think you're lying. I look damned good in that picture, as in real life, and you're just jealous."

::He leans forward to pick up his coffee.::

(The only thing about espressos is they're too damned small. And espressy.)

::Quinn still hasn't touched his cup. The man nods, agreeing with his guest.

"You look absolutely stunning. The hot date would've appreciated."

::He finds Dean's arrogance rather endearing. Giving in himself, the photographer scuttles closer and hands over his camera.::

"Ha."

::Taking it, Dean glaces at the viewfinder. It's himself, looking surprised and unwilling to be in the photo, as he expected.::

"Yeah... I didn't need to see that."

::And now he hands it back.::

"Told you so."

::Quinn looks at the picture again. He ain't deleting it though. He thinks Dean actually looks kinda cute, in the deer-caught-in-headlights kind of way.::

"Let's try it again."

::The camera moves back up to Quinn's expert eye. He adjusts the lens and gets ready to snap.::

"Alright, smile."

"Do I have to?"

::He already is, shyly.::

"Yes, you do."

::Quinn can be demanding when he's in photoshoot mode. His finger is itching over the shutter.::

::Dean pulls a face instead.::

::This makes Quinn laugh, and he totally takes a picture. Then, he puts his precious camera aside, and proceeds to attack Dean on the couch. Pokes & tickles!::

::Dean squirms and catches Quinn's hands, holding them in a powerful grip.::

"Hey, man!"

::He catches the journalist's eyes, looking into them seriously.::

::The seriousness of Dean's gaze freaks Quinn out a little and he stops. The tickling had been uncharacteristically brash of him anyways, and the look Dean gives him is enough to kill the playful urge.::

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry."

::The photographer would scoot back - far back - if he weren't held in Dean's strong grip.::

"Sorry."

::Dean frowns, looking apologetic himself.::

"No... I didn't mean..."

::He shakes his head, dismissing the whole thing.::

"But you should get me some more coffee."

::If only Quinn wasn't such a skittish wuss. He gladly nods along to Dean's excuse for more coffee. Except...::

"Er, can I have my hands back please?"

::He flashes Dean a tiny little smile.::

::Dean looks from Quinn down to their hands, then smiles wanly and lets go.::

"You're free."

"Thanks."

::Quinn lifts himself off the couch and busies himself pouring Dean another espresso. It's not exactly warm though. So he pops his head out of the kitchen.::

"Hey, do you want a cappuccino instead? The apartment came with a maker, and I haven't had a chance to use it yet..."

"Sure."

::Dean shrugs his indifference to what kind of coffee Quinn makes him.::

"I drink a lot of coffee. I'm happy to try any kind you like."

::He smiles.::

(Huh. I guess I owe him for this. Coming into his place and drinking all his coffee... wonder if he has many friends and if this is how he meets all of them.)

"Oh. Okay!"

::Quinn calls out from the kitchen. He sets about making the cappuccino, quite glad really to have a bit of time to himself. Poor Quinn is still a little nerve-wracked about the sofa-tickle-play-fighting incident.::

(What if he isn't into men? But then... why else would he come up to my apartment, and drink all my coffee? Unless - is he just a really cool, friendly guy?)

::The coffee-maker starts whistling, and Quinn sets the foamy stuff going on the cappuccino. He carefully brings a steaming cup back to the living room and sets it on the coffee table.::

"So, Dean, I don't think you ever told me what you actually do for a living?"

::Dean laughs, a little uncomfortably.::

"I've taken some time off right now, actually. Kinda... doing some travel. But normally I do whatever's around. Manual stuff. Delivery... you know, simple stuff..."

::He coughs.::

"Nothing impressive, unfortunately."

"Delivery's impressive. Lots of travel, requires physical dexterity..."

::Quinn quips with a bit of a smile. Dean's seeming discomfort does not go unnoticed, hence the photographer's attempt to lighten the mood. He reaches over and pokes at Dean's upper arm.::

"Nice biceps."

::Dean smiles lightly, but his mind's wandered.::

"What do you think's gonna happen to that guy? That murdered all those people."

::Aww, and Quinn had just begun to let the shocking afternoon incident slip from his mind. The android shrugs.::

"Who says its a guy?"

::The memories of the dead bodies do more than send a shudder throughout Quinn. The android personality within him activates, although it is in a more subtle sense than before. Think of it as a dual processor, one part Quinn on the surface, and the other part XX-002 running its memory program in search of clues.::