Pulling a childish face, Quin crossed his arms over his chest, having abandoned his bottle to the floor next to him. "Clearly I don't do a very good job." Maybe he should leave that to his manager or the girls in the shop. "I bet it needs a lady's touch." He had plenty of them around him anyway, surely one of them could help him out. Felicity must have better taste than he did.

His filter slightly altered due the booze, Quin thought about another swig, but decided against it. "I'm lacking that in my life apparently, did you know that?" He was only slightly sarcastic about that. According to Mrs. Devine anyway. Ophelia seemed to think he had hope but Quin was starting to think he was a lost cause in that respect- and many others apparently. Blowing out a huff, Quin let his head fall back against the top of the sofa as he looked at the ceiling for a moment to ponder just what the hell he was going to do with himself.