Paragon

⊰❉⊱ 35 ⊰❉⊱

I sat across from a mortal with green eyes that scanned everything around us.

The room was lit low and a water feature bubbled nearby over low murmuring. The smells of roasted duck and steamed vegetables floated. The candles flickered in golden hues despite it still being midday. A secluded but well respected place to satisfy even the most picky of eaters–that was certainly not Quinn judging by the way she had once tried everything I had ordered her in London.

A waiter presented himself to us with two curt bows.

I drew my chin off the bridge of my hands and offered him an easy smile. His eyes widened a touch and he cleared his throat beginning a broken supply of English.

"No need to be polite." I told him in Japanese, growing amused when his eyes widened again in comical fashion. I was aware how rare it was for Westerners to bother learning the tongue. "A bottle of Umeshu, please."

He brought himself out of his shock and returned a more genuine smile showing appreciation for the attention to his culture. But it wasn't just courtesy. I had long ago found love for the country and its ways.

He bowed again and left us.

Quinn was staring at me.

I winked.

Her pulse quickened and she glanced away to a table to her right. Another elderly couple whom shared a bottle and what seemed like good conversation over steamed buns.

"This is all so... intimate."

I smirked knowingly and nodded. "Hard to mirror in London."

"I really have lived in a bubble." She murmured, meeting my eyes again.

"Apologies for bursting it."

She chuckled and watched the candle flicker between us. "Stop acting like you're sorry."

I stilled and raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying I planned this, Adams?" I said, incredulous.

"It would have been an elaborate one..." She mused. "But I can't say I can complain, even if I am eventually on the menu–"

I dropped my hands on the table with a bit too much force and glared at her making a grin spread across her face. The elderly couple cast us wary glances before continuing in their own conversation. At least they had a sane one.

"Perhaps it is you that should stop acting like my being is an empty threat." I murmured in a low voice.

Quinn drummed a hand against the dark wood with a casual expression. Like we talked of nothing more than the menu. Not that she could be on it.

"I make decisions based on the facts, Fletcher. And so far none of them align with you hurting me." She said simply, glancing at her nails.

"Very well. Let us look at the facts." I whispered, leaning in closer. That warmth and scent only closed in on me but I cast it aside. "I have killed hundreds of your kind. And there will likely be hundreds more to come. I have lived five times your years and am still a juvenile immortal. I have lost control before, Quinn. It is always possible to become that again. Always." I finished, leaning back in my chair and watching her reaction grow more thoughtful. But for some insane reason it still wasn't fear spiking her blood.

I huffed out a breath through my nose as the waiter returned quietly and placed a bottle and two glasses between us. Quinn smiled up at him easily as if the words had never left my lips just now.

He pulled the cork and poured the amber liquid into the glasses. I watched the cubes of ice glisten gold against the candle light and alcohol. I thanked him and he disappeared once more.