"I don't know?" Quin answered honestly as he continued to stare at the ceiling. Thinking about it too much made his head hurt. Fuck that. He swept forward and picked up the bottle again. If he was going to have a headache it was certainly going to be from the whiskey, not ruminating over his trashed life.

He eyed Felicity quietly. She was engaged, she would know better than he would right? Quin was woefully ignorant to his own flaws in life apparently. He had no idea what he wanted out of life aside from a successful business which had practically been his wife for ten years or so. "I've always been busy with the store. I suppose I'm at an age where I should be looking?" Was thirty-one really when that started happening?

Taking a long swig of the whiskey Quin realized he no longer felt the burn, that was both a blessing and a curse. He waved off her second statement haphazardly, almost sloshing his bottle all over himself. "I don't know about that. I think I work too much. I clearly have bad taste in colors and I don't know how to even talk to ladies outside of offering them sweets." He was rambling now, letting the booze do the talking for him.