#f2f ss.

[quinnandpaper]

[ f2f ] quinn/sabrina/brandy

thesensiblesmythe:

White it is, and impromptu Smythbrayeston snow day dance party starts now.

Sab, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and you’re already going stir crazy.

[quinnandpaper]

What're we gonna start with, Q? The red or the white???

Please, Sab, there’s enough in our collection to stick with white, which considering the conditions outside, is rather fitting.

[quinnandpaper]

[ f2f ] quinn/sabrina

[Sunday evening; Sabrina knocks on Quinn's door.]

SAB: Q, c'mon enough already. I get it, you're mad. And I'm sorry. I'm friggen sorry. I dissed the Pope and all of Catholicism, all right?

[ Her writing schedule's been skewed the last few days in favor of spending some quality time with Beth as she heals, so Quinn's surrounded by a sea of paper scattered across her bed. With headphones fully encompassing her ears, she doesn't even hear the knocking. ]

[quinnandpaper]

[ f2f ] quinn/sabrina

thesensiblesmythe:

[Sabrina pads across the kitchen floor, plopping down on one of the stools.  In her hand is a carton of cigarettes, which she places on the marble surface–she’d just finished two out on her balcony.]

Hey yourself.  How’d the date go?

It went...

[ Quinn casts her eyes skyward as if she’ll find the answer there. It wasn’t the worst date she’s ever been on by far, but it also wasn’t the best. Perhaps the spark that was there throughout her and Sabrina’s dinner the other night was simply a pseudo-spark encouraged and fanned by the glaze of alcohol. Or maybe it was only first date jitters, because there were bits of night that Quinn certainly enjoyed. ]

...well. If she calls, I wouldn’t turn down a second date.

[ But if she doesn’t, Quinn won’t lose any sleep either. ]

[quinnandpaper]

[ f2f ] quinn/sabrina

SAB: "I am preeeeetty sure our waitress is givin' you heart eyes, Q."

Q: Pint glass halfway to her lips, Quinn lifts her gaze to catch their waitress -- a pretty petite thing with a flattering pixie cut -- shooting a glance here and there at their table from her position at the bar. Quinn smirks as she sips, and the curl of her lip lingers as she casts her eyes back across the table. "Wanna make a wager?"