Thread: Have We Met? [Quin + Collared]

His fingers danced around the rim of the glass, the condensation rolling down into the half-empty beer that taunted him to finish it. To be honest, Finn Reynolds wanted nothing more than to nestle at home, kicking off those unforgiving leather Oxfords, and letting his feet breathe while he caught up on watching Penny Dreadful on Netflix. So when he had finally signed the last document sitting on his desk at the precinct, he was eager to grab his tattered coat and head to his car, only to be whisked away his fellow detectives to some gay bar whose name he couldn't remember. Finns sexuality wasnt much of a topic for discussion, much less one for juvenile mockery. No, he had quashed all of those stigmas and stereotypes when he had accumulated the highest number of convicted arrests in a year, earning him a top position within his district. It was an accomplishment that made him well-known and respected, easily granting passageway to his promotion onto detective. Now, he was in the big leagues, known as the Rookie Detective for his overly-avid determination and passion. Though, he felt it wane despite being the hot shot prodigy they had all called him, his inexperience restricted him from the cases he truly wanted, reduced to taking on mediocre disputes and the paperwork that followed. The friends he had made here noticed, though it wasnt up to them which cases they were assigned. They had taken pity on him, resolving to dragging him out to the local gay bar only a few blocks from the office. And now they had all left him, off dancing or taking advantage on the straight girls who lowered their guard, not expecting to find any straight men here. He looked at them in slight annoyance, his face subtly wrinkling as he turned back to his drink, alone. Earlier that day, he had caught ear of a brutal killing the victim found on the carpet of her home, the report coming in only because the neighbor reported a foul stench stewing from the house next door. The body was horribly dismembered, chunks of flesh missing, as if it had been cut off like a slab of pork at the butchers. What was curious about this murder was that it appeared as though her house had been lived in, even after her death. There was an indentation in the bed far too big for someone of her frame, used towels and stray hairs decorated the wet tub that didnt belong to the victim or anyone in her social circle. It was something he wished he could have been assigned to the perfect case to get his career launched. But here he was, drinking shitty beer while the pounding static they called music invaded his eardrums without mercy. Holding up the glass by the edge, he swirled it around, the foam creating a miniature whirlpool as he turned his seat, catching sight of a man sitting a few seats down. He was impeccably dressed those with little fashion sense would brush it off as basic casual clothing, but at least Finn knew brand names when he saw them. His grey eyes, dark in the club, met the man down the counter from him, and he held the gaze for a few good seconds before holding his flat beer up, offering a subtle flick of his wrist in an attempted toast before knocking the glass back. He winced slightly, the sour taste lingering on the flat of his tongue as he set the glass down.