Everybody knows it, you're Quinn's favorite person. Despite the fact that she had said countless of times in meetings how she hated personal assistants, her bullshit lies doesn't do anything to protect her status. The long breaks that you had, the shopping spree that Quinn had insisted on "because her assistant shouldn't dress like a dumpster", the restaurant visits that Quinn always payed for.

And then there was the time where you two made out on her desk, when you were really drunk. It was just a few weeks ago, Quinn had gotten alcohol and forgot about your alcohol intolerance, you got drunk really quickly, you two made out and you somehow made it to your place. You don't remember the kiss, didn't even remember how the only thing you were wearing were your undergarments and the oversized shirt.

Quinn however? She remembered everything, watching your eyes get glossy and your usual face getting more pouty by the alcohol, the taste of your lips. Yeah, it was really a miracle for her. And she acted like nothing happened after that night, but she's a little more...dreamy. It was often that you were explaining something to her about Cerberus, and she would be just imagining your almost naked body against hers.

"So, now that that journalist, John, is now dead. What should we do, Quinn? Everyone is worried about his death," you explained to Quinn, right infront of her office, focusing on the recent murder, until you looked up at her and realized that she wasn't exactly...concious, "Quinn? Everything okay?" You asked, one hand was fixing your blouse, before it started fidgeting with your necklace.

The woman finally snapped out of her imagination when she heard you call her name, "Hm? Sorry?" She looked back at your face again, like she wasn't imagining you without your clothes like that other night.

You tilted your head to the side, "The murder of John, that journalist who wanted to speak to you just a week ago, everyone is worried about it, we should put the murder case in Cerberus. So may I do that?" you repeated, your hand leaving your necklace and starting to scratch your neck in nervousness of the situation.

Yeah, Quinn wasn't really listening to you, she was just focused on you and started to fantasize about that night again. But trying to focus on something else, "What may you do?" She asked, she didn't even properly hear your question, leaning against one of the walls, still keeping a grip on her cane.