Reflection - self
Quintin was eating some Oreo's from the roof of his townhouse, watching the sunrise, and quickly noticed that it wasn't an eye. A smirk fell on his lips, feet propped up on a small stool, sunglasses on, and an orange cat spread out in his lap.
"See? This is why specialized people exist in the world," he scratched behind their ears, "someone or some people in general, fixed it. That's why I have to let it go that I didn't keep him."
Quintin was in a regretful mood this morning, having said to Carrington that he had forgotten about him in a sleepy notion, but it had been a lie. The company in the lab had been so lovely. Even with his nonsense chatter, having someone there to listen had been a change he didn't realize he desired when he's usually holed up alone. Q had more questions, but he couldn't allow himself to go there. It was important to him to specialize in one area, much like his science tracks, he saw hunting the same way.
Proof it worked was in the sky, or so he assumed. Quintin’s youth gave him the ability to believe in people.
"I need to find more hunters..." he crunched an Oreo as the sun spread its colors in the sky, "maybe the best way will be through Mina, even if I really don't like her dad. I guess--" He pondered, "maybe I could just find some hunts outside my area and see if I run into one."
He shook his head. Too desperate. Why was it so hard to find people who thought as he did? Why did he have to be so weird?
"It's fine--" he dipped an Oreo in some milk and watched the new day surface with a pang. It’s enough.
