Paragon

⊰❉⊱ 54 ⊰❉⊱

"The machines of this place are failing, and the woman and I are here all alone. The perpetual motion engine, as brilliant and beautiful as it is, is running down—nothing lasts forever. But before this little world falls out of the sky there still might be time enough for redemption. There is still time for me to say the words that I should have had the courage to say at the beginning."

― Dexter Palmer, The Dream of Perpetual Motion

We sat before each other and the molten gold of candlelight for many hours. It could have been days to my senses. Who would know when the world burned back in those summer green eyes. In the smooth curve of her lips when she recounted every detail I asked of her life in London.

What made her excited. Anxious. Fearful. Happy. Curious–yet Quinn had a curiosity for every aspect of life. It's what drew me to her. One of the rare souls that searched your eyes instead of gazing past them. It was a rare thing... To have a natural urge for questioning the world around you when so many simply wandered through it unquestioning.

"What?" She murmured, around a slow sip of red wine.

I didn't flinch.

"I think about how different you are a lot." I stated honestly.

She laughed into the glass and struggled to swallow her sip. I couldn't stop the smile that stole me as she lowered it carefully and avoided spills on my white shirt she wore. I also didn't miss the way she drew her lips together before releasing them and answering.

"I know I'm as weird as they come, detective but couldn't you sugar coat it a little?"

I leant forward on my forearms and took her glass out of her hand slowly before inhaling the vintage in the glass. She watched me intently as I placed my lips where hers had been on the glass and took a light sip. I answered her with a knowing smile.

She raised an eyebrow and turned her gaze out to the ocean below us.

The restaurant was a private affair. Warm and intimate. The cicadas could be heard in symphony around us and the warm air kissed our skin making us the same temperature for once. Vines wrapped carefully around the balcony and rooftop lattice above. Quinn could speak of nothing but the setting until her curiosity to know about me cut in.

"So, this is what it would be like..." She murmured, only loud enough for us.

I stared at the side of her face and her dark hair piled down one side of her shoulder. She didn't need to elaborate for me to know her meaning.

"When time allows it." I answered low.

She met my eyes quickly.

"You mean when Paragon allows it."

"World threatening events don't tend to occur every weekday, Quinn." I sighed, pushing back in my chair and watching the moon light the waves on the horizon.

"I don't suppose you could give me your calendar?" She said dryly.

I bridged my hands and looked over them with a slow head shake, "I could always ignore it and see how long it takes either Paragon or the world to destroy itself."

She grumbled something unintelligible. I arched an eyebrow and tilted my head. Instead of answering me she took a deeper drink of wine and I chuckled.

"I guess it makes everything sweeter. Not knowing how much you get..." She mused.

I turned to the water beyond and stared at the way the silver light drew rippling ribbons in the dark.