“Not too colourful, not too dull – I feel like that should’ve been my YEARBOOK QUOTE,” Quinn laughed. “Well, I do LOVE yellows, but I think I either want my kitchen or my bathroom to be that colour – or maybe my bedroom. My mother always said that pastel colours suited me more, but honestly? Colours are colours to me; she could point at three different shades and give me their proper names while I’d just call all three YELLOW. It’s a real problem, apparently,” the sheriff shook her head. As long as she knew the red, amber and green of traffic lights then not knowing the proper names of other colours were not exactly important in her books, she would leave that part to others that were more suited to that kind of thing – which Valentina seemed to be. “I’m not actually going to do that, though. I mean, I’m ACTIVE ENOUGH, but even I can’t be bothered doing that kind of thing. I’ll mostly just sit around and complain for a while then just accept what’s in front of me,” she smiled warmly at the other, though the smile almost faded as her previous weekend continued to be the topic at hand. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes Quinn was OVERWHELMED by the role she had taken in her job. She had worked her entire life to get to where she was, and now that she was there – now she would spend the rest of her life remembering that she only got the job because of her father’s death. When those thoughts hit, the bottle was usually brought out. It was something that Quinn was ASHAMED of. “Okay, I’m going to trust you with this, then. The fate of my home’s appearance is now firmly in your hands. No pressure,” Quinn grinned, wells appearing in her cheeks as she did. “Even the chillest of people have a melting point,” she then pointed out, chuckling softly. “I’m not going to try, but I am going to APOLOGISE in advance for if it does happen.” It wasn’t like the sheriff would intentionally irritate the other, anyway. She had grown to value and enjoy the other’s company, and was in no way inclined to ruin that any time soon. Green eyes soon fell upon the fingers that held her sleeve and a deeper colour settled into her cheeks. “You’re amazing – I mean… THANK YOU,” Quinn cleared her throat. “I appreciate it all, I do. – And paint fights… really?”
Valentina chuckled gaily at Quinn’s joke, taking a sip of her wine before shaking her head. “You’re not winning at all, Prentiss. I sided with your dad and now I’m going to side with your mom on this one - pastel colors do suit you. You look BEAUTIFUL in that mint sweater. --- well, I think an earthy tone would work perfectly for your kitchen,” she exclaimed, setting her glass on the kitchen’s table as she selected the color from the numerous color options, showing it to Quinn. “I think yellow is a great color and you should go with yellow for your bedroom,” she added, a smile inching on her lips, mirroring Quinn’s warm one. “Woah, THANKS, that takes the pressure off for sure,” she joked, softly nudging her friend’s arm with her elbow, a laugh slipping from her lips. “--- I don’t. I’m telling you. I MEDITATE. I’m the CHILLEST, not only spiritually, but I’m also SUPER COOL and wouldn’t get annoyed over that.” Valentina lifted both shoulders, spreading her hands in a shrug. “Don’t worry about it, alright? You’re not going to drive me insane,” at least not over home decor, anyway. Valentina thought, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. Truth was, when her feelings for Quinn were involved, when they invaded her mind, Valentina could swear that Quinn DROVE her insane. She could swear she was receiving wrong, mixed signals. Smiles that could only mean more to what they represented, touches that sometimes lasted longer than they should. Every aspect of their friendship brought doubts to Valentina. Not about the friendship itself, Quinn was an amazing friend, but about Valentina’s feelings, about the uncertainty of the depth to where she could go, to where she SHOULD go. Hell, she had blown a whole weekend ONLY to be in Quinn’s presence, to paint as many walls as she wished. “I -- You’re welcome.” Valentina’s lips curved into a smile and an irrepressible dimple appeared at the corners of her mouth. Her fingers uncurled the sleeve she grasped, instinctively tracing down the length of Quinn’s arm, fingertips slowly running against the smooth sleekness of the fabric. Eventually, once her hand had fallen to where it belonged, her gaze darted away from Quinn’s, embarrassed after the INAPPROPRIATE touch. Clearing her throat, she wore a smile as she retorted, “--- don’t you give me that look, alright? Paint fights can be fun.”