My Max is More Than Two Women

Summer 2021, Week 5

Monday morning

Thanks A Latte, The Heights

Quentin Jones

Quentin had been on and off talking to some people over the internet, he was admittedly safe about. It never sharing enough to anyone he couldn’t trust but these two seemed trustworthy enough.   He’d picked this location due to its affordability and the fact he didn’t want to scare them at a club or a bar. He did like drinking but has a tendency to ramble and wake up in someone’s bed in another state.   Quentin had made his way inside and sat down at a table quickly texting the both of them that he was here.   “Better not be a sting. I can’t afford to have to buy broken cutlery.”  

Randall Winters

"Should've picked a place with less fragile stuff, then." Randall's response came soon enough, and the young man could be seen entering not long after. Quick to scan through the customers, he headed over to his thus far online acquaintance. "Yo, Quent."   He said a bit curtly and nodded in a simple greeting as he sat down. The somewhat messy hairstyle, the bags under his eyes and the t-shirt displaying what seemed to be the cover art of some obscure album all seemed to add up with the persona he tended to display online as well, eccentric but charming. Though most only seemed to agree with the former. Though he didn't seem nervous, his gaze never seemed to stay still for long, always looking for the next minute detail to comment on. And now that attention would be fixed on this meeting.  

Quentin Jones

Quentin was staring at his phone before he heard the voice of Randall and looked up. Randall had gotten a basic description messy brownish hair with a small amount Dyed, broad shoulders and a fit build with glasses.   It was accurate and the speedy thought process Quentin had been known for and fast talking style started almost instantly. "Hey uh Randall right? I picked this place cus It's affordable.....barely."  

Randall Winters

Randall nodded as he gave a shifty glance toward other people in nearby tables, then returned his attention to Quentin. "That's right... Guess I can afford it this once, or if not, it'll just have to be your treat. Any sign of Percy yet?" While he was perhaps not quite as prone to fast-paced discussion before a topic had captured his attention, it was not easy to get him on the back foot, either.  

Quentin Jones

“Pffft you think I can afford more then a water and a muffin? I literally have to go dumpster diving so I can keep building stuff. Ain’t got none of that Jonesy fortune in my name anymore.” Every syllable rushed smoothly from Quentin’s mouth most people usually stumble over their words with his speed but it was clear this is how he always talks. He looked around with a shrug.   “I’m sure he’ll be here soon or somethin’. Probably got caught up in traffic.” Quentin rolled his skates on the ground as he waited for the other to join them.  

Randall Winters

"I guess that's what you've gotta do with electronics. Maybe I'd swallow my pride too, but it's not like my kind of stuff gets thrown in the garbage, instruments and whatnot." He soon began to drum some tune against the table with his fingers, maybe to emphasize the point, maybe just fidgeting for no particular reason. "I kinda want to ask if it's even realistic to think you'll find anything useful there, but guess I'd be surprised."  

Quentin Jones

“you’d be surprised whay people throw away instead of trying to fix. It’s a fault of consumerism.” Quentin shrugged and smiled at the comment about finding useful things in the trash as he quickly put his own self made phone onto the table and a few other minor gadgets. “These are all from dumpster diving. You just need a good eye and some know how. I have got my own spots. Hell my car was a junk yard scrapper when I got it.”  

Randall Winters

"I can imagine... Though you'd think spots like that wouldn't be easy to get to." The thought quickly brought Roslyen's mansion to mind. He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened to that motorcycle, but he could easily imagine it being thrown out just for being too inconvenient to fix. "Oh, you're kidding. Who builds this kind of stuff? Then again I guess it's a lot better than no car." Here he was having a sophisticated conversation about trash, but after last weekend it felt like nothing would strike him as odd anymore.  

Quentin Jones

“No I’m not. I build it.” He grinned and shrugged again a confident cocky smile across his face. “Believe it or not most people don’t go jumping into dumpsters.” He chuckled the sarcastic tone thick and smothered on to his comment. “Probably helps I’m currently studying engineering and IT.”  

Randall Winters

"Come on, there's no way they teach this kind of stuff. Isn't it more about coding and statistics or something?" Clearly he had very little practical idea of what modern engineering might entail. To be fair, even if he seemed to know a surprising amount of random stuff and was even well versed in a thing or two, he wasn't exactly highly educated. "And everyone knows coding's for nerds, right?"  

Quentin Jones

“Maybe it’s not all of this. But it’s about making systems and technologies.” He smiled and showed off the tech a little bit more before putting it away. Mumbling “Top student too.” Under his breath. “I code and yet somehow I pull more women and relationships then you.”  

Randall Winters

"Oh, come on... That hardly proves how successful you are in life. I mean, fine, maybe it kinda does. But still..." He leaned a bit forward with a look that implied he at least had something of a comeback. "...If that's so, have you ever even pulled two at once?"  

Quentin Jones

“A gentleman never tells.” A smirk comes across his face completely betraying what he said. “You’re right it doesn’t however. I am a nerd for work, for study, and for fun.” Quentin quickly scanned the menu figuring out what he could afford and want.  

Randall Winters

"I'm not asking for names, only a bit of validation. But fine, let's not get into that." He responded, already going through other means of competition in his head as he lazily checked the menu. "I was just joking, mind you, but you can't argue that kind of stuff wins people over the way a good performance does. You just haven't seen me do it, that's all."  

Quentin Jones

“I ain’t yet but yeah if you gotta know my max is more then two women.” He chuckled and found what he wanted in a flash. “Sure sure whatever you’ve gotta tell yourself. But let’s not get into that.”  

Randall Winters

As skeptical as he appeared, there was surprise in his expression. Nah, he's bluffing. Must be. And even if he's not, Friday night was definitely an achievement on that front. He spent a moment distracting himself with the menu, coming up with an order soon enough. "Now you're just making me feel bad about it... A little curious, too, but whatever. Yeah, yeah, I hear you. We can change the topic. Anything interesting happen to you lately?"  

Quentin Jones

“That wasn’t my intent but I ain’t lying.” He chuckled and shrugged looking at him. “Uhhh. Guess I have got a new roomie at the University Besides that I’ve not much. Why you dressed so smart or whatever?”  

Randall Winters

He quickly checked himself as if almost having forgotten what he was wearing, though in his defense he looked tired enough to justify it even if his attention span weren't short to begin with. He quickly followed this with a smirk of renewed confidence, however. "Well, I don't know about smart... But thing is, I've got an audition this afternoon. And you're not gonna guess where." Clearly this was Quentin's cue to try nonetheless.  

Quentin Jones

“A cool grungy bar downtown with a punk rock Attitude, Cheap booze and a fun time waiting to happen?” He shrugged guessing obviously where he would want to be. Ordering a simple muffin and water from a nearby waiter. “But it’s good you landed one.”  

Randall Winters

"Not a bad guess. Would've been just my kind of thing a few days ago. But nah, I can do better than that, and someone's finally taken notice." He leaned a bit closer a lowered his voice as if it was a matter of intrigue far bigger than them, shooing the waiter away after leaving the same order except with whichever drink had the most caffeine relative to price. "The studio of Roslyen van Steele. How's that for an achievement?"  

Quentin Jones

“Hey it’s my kind of thing Still. Clubs overprice and water down their booze.” Quentin shrugged and leaned in closer looking to the waiter. “Sorry ‘bout that.” His eyes widened a bit before he shrugged. “I feel like I’ve heard her name before but I dunno her. You’re gonna have to tell me a bit more but good for you seems like a big deal.”  

Randall Winters

"Come on, everyone knows her. Real tall evo pop star, always going on about doing this and that for them and making a positive change, whatever that's supposed to mean. Like, I'm not a huge fan either but you'd have to live under a rock not to have heard of her." He explained with a somewhat dismissive wave of his hand before returning to the matter at hand. "Now I've just got to ace this chance, and then... Well, honestly I'm not entirely sure what comes next, but hopefully no more crappy odd jobs for me. Whole thing still feels pretty unreal, to be honest."  

Quentin Jones

“I know of her…I mean probably from the pro-evo stuff cus y’know I’m a strong believer and supporter of that but I kinda live in a cave where I make technology and listened to punk and techno.” Quentin shrugged and looked around before back to Randall sighing at the dismissive wave. “I bet. It’s probably how normal people feel getting an internship at my parents stupid company. Except I’m sure yours is a wayyy better chance that isn’t y’know…..evil. I’m sure you’ve got it.”  

Randall Winters

"Cheers. Still, I'm not out of the woods yet. You never know with the rich types. And if it sounds too good to be true, it usually is. I just haven't figured out what the issue is yet. He spent a moment rubbing his eyes before resuming his explanation. "Right, you don't know. I was playing substitute for a guitarist at a bar, and I have no clue why but the star herself showed up there and was impressed. So while I know I'm good, chances are she was just drunk enough to set the whole thing up and her secretary just didn't want to say no to her. Sounds more like my luck, at least, but I'd be stupid not to take the chance anyway."  

Quentin Jones

“Hey closer to the end then before. Prefer to think you see the exit and go for it then just ignore it”. Quentin listened as intently as he could even if he was telling the storrrryyyyy soooooo slllllooooowwwwwwww. “I…..mean yeah you’d be a dumbass and I’d beat you up if you didn’t take it, so her secretary didn’t say like…..no she’s too drunk? I mean screw it don’t hook a gift horse in the mouth you need a lift there?”  

Randall Winters

"Saying no to a diva like that probably isn't a very good way to hold on to her job, either. Though I kinda got the idea that I'm not the first one, but not everyone gets actual chance. I guess that's positive, at least." He said with a shrug, his gaze trailing away to something that was likely nothing in particular. "It's not all that far from here, but I guess I could take you up on the offer. Less of a chance that my clothes get ruined on the way or something typical... Have you ever been to an interview or whatever with some proper bigwigs?"  

Quentin Jones

“Yeah her job is probably just yes ma’am this. Yes ma’am that and setting it up but hey you got a chance gotta take it.” Quentin quickly shoved as his food arrived and he started eating. “When you gotta be there? I’ll speed so we get there early for a good impression. I mean….last time was when I was screening for universities at like 13…..so no. Well before I applied here and they accepted me due to my insane record. Just smell good dress nice and do ya best or whatever. Push every advantage you got to prove you’re capable people like that. My parents did before I went on a……long journey of ‘self discovery’.”  

Randall Winters

"If I got it right, it'll be just that secretary again and not Roslyen herself... Though I'm honestly not sure if that's good or bad. At least I won't have trouble imagining her naked to deal with the nerves if you know what I mean." He said somewhat suggestively, lazily stirring his drink. "I might've been to more interviews in my time but yours have definitely been fancier, sounds like. Anyway, the audition starts at one and she wanted me there half an hour before, so I've got time. Up to you if you bother to tag along."  

Quentin Jones

“Uhuh. Probably helps your nerves knowing you fucked the interviewer…..unless y’know she went skinny dipping in one of the parks and you perv’d.” He teased with a grin shrugging. “Not really that fancy. Everywhere wanted me but I didn’t wanna go to uni yet. No point til I had a car and y’know wasn’t a fucking child. Not to mention there wasn’t really an ‘interview’ for Saint Maria it was more of a welcome aboard then a proper screening. I’ve got nothing to do besides race around so fuck it sure.”  

Randall Winters

He seemed to cringe at the joke and paused to rub his eyes a little more, maybe just to hide the expression. "Well, about that... It's a bit of a long story, but your 'unless' is closer to the truth. Nothing that bad, it's not that I was trying anything, but still." Clearly he had somewhat conflicting emotions regarding the incident. "Either way, everyone actually agreed that you got talent. The only one who calls me smart is myself, and even I'm joking half the time."  

Quentin Jones

“I’m gonna have to get you drunk so you can tell me that one.” Quentin laughed at his friends cringeing slapping the table a bit. “I wouldn’t say I’ve got talent. You did know younger me. I was obsessed with technology and engineering and IT. I was a fucking animal at tech. I had no friends. Not to mention boy genius really isn’t that good. Everyone expects you to be perfect and mature twenty-four seven. A perfect lapdog for your idiot parents.”  

Randall Winters

"Fuck no, at times it feels like I'm still hungover from that whole mess last Friday... Probably because I haven't had a good night's sleep since, but still. No way I'm drinking again before I've recovered from that one." He muttered, leaving it somewhat unclear whether it was a genuine statement, a humorous response or a mixture of both. After a bit he focused on Quentin once more. "Yeah, I kinda get that. Three older siblings have a way to pile up the expectations, too. Unfulfilled ones, obviously."  

Quentin Jones

“Gahaha I am going to coax you out of that story if it’s the last thing I do Randall.” He chuckled shaking his head and listening. “Well I was an only child until recently so it’s even worse.”  

Randall Winters

"It was one hell of an adventure, I'll say that much. And that's just the parts I can actually remember. Eh, I don't know. Maybe I'll change my mind if they actually take me in. Would be worth celebrating, at least." He said with a shrug, starting to eat his portion as well. "Yeah, both have their pros and cons but I guess it's not as easy for you to just hide from the attention you'd rather not have. But at least you've been able to put some distance there, right?"  

Quentin Jones

“Well if they take you in don’t forget to invite me to your big after party. Sure her music ain’t my taste but I’ll still go.” He shrugged again chugging some water down. “Yeah….we’ll it was now they’ve stated I’ll never get away and are apparently going to open a branch down here. Ugh great.”  

Randall Winters

"Yeah, will do. Somehow I doubt they'll see it as something special enough to celebrate anyway, so I guess I'll need someone for company." He responded with a hint of a smile, maybe even some hope in his expression. "What exactly do your folks want with you, anyway? To be the future of their fancy company in all things, and to act like it or something?"  

Quentin Jones

“I’m sure she’s a party girl who will want to party over someone new and if she doesn’t then we’ll party. I’m quite the party thrower myself”. Quentin had a smile that slowly faded as the conversation about his parents continued. “I’m the sole Heir. I’m there ‘perfect little man’ spent my whole life told I’m going to take over the company and that I should be an adult. Look into the records oops turns out we’re selling experimental weaponry to any military on the planet that will buy and oops we’re selling people’s data to the highest bidder. So I took my shit and fuckin’ jetted.”  

Randall Winters

"Sounds like a plan, I'll let you know once I'm done there." He said, dramatically raising his drink as if it was some special occasion. With that settled, he focused on listening. "Sounds like a pain, yeah. Even if you could maybe turn things around if you do ever take over, I guess you'd have to stand that shit for at least a couple of decades before being able to make much difference. Probably long enough for you to become too jaded and cynical to care either way, am I right?"  

Quentin Jones

“Alright we’ll do somethin’ once it’s confirmed youre in.” Quentin somewhat chuckled as he listened back. “Probably my parents ain’t too hold only in their 40’s. Not to mention I refuse to join the corpo race to destroy the planet and increase my own meaningless number in the grand name of capitalism.”  

Randall Winters

"Yeah, you do you. Luckily enough, my line of work - or what it might become, at least - shouldn't be so much about that. Either I'll be successful enough not to worry too much or they'll scam me and I become another cog in the van Steele wheel. But it should at least make a living, I hope." She sipped on a drink and scowled slightly, maybe at the bitterness or simply an increasingly acute awareness of his recent lack of sleep. "So what's the alternative you're going for, then? Can't just tinker in your garage forever, at least not unless you can afford one."  

Quentin Jones

“Hopefully for you. You don’t get destroyed by the machine or even worse burn yourself out and never stop.” He shrugged to Randall sipping his own water. “I mean. That don’t sound too bad. I dunno just do security testing or if I’m real lucky.” He lifted his foot with an amazing flexibility to show his roller blades that whirr softly as the wheels spin.   “I can make this into a business. Make millions create my own tech giant that doesn’t sell out to the militaries of the world or run a social media company that doesn’t sell data. Worse case scenario I live in a tiny little shithole apartment white hat hacking.”  

Randall Winters

"Sounds nice, but in the end most entrepreneurs fail no matter the field, I guess. How much would you even sell a pair of those for?" He asked and gave a superficial look at the rollerblade. "And either way, it takes money to get anything like that started. But if I become the next big rock star or something, just ask me for a small loan. Then we can both be miserable again when my band splits apart and you go bankrupt."  

Quentin Jones

“Most entrepreneurs are idiots who are trying a get rich quick scheme with crypto and a stupid plan of fuck bitches spend money.” His foot hit the ground softly as he quickly shook his head. “I dunno I made this myself spending no money so I dunno how much it’s worth. I would but buddy you gotta get into the band first.” He laughed at his own comment about the blades and gave an obviously joking tone when he gave the other man shit.  

Randall Winters

"Come on, a guy can dream... I wasn't even being too optimistic there." He jokingly complained in response. "I don't know how much I'd pay either, but I guess they could sell well. Just make sure you're not liable when kids use them to zoom around and get run over. Either way, is there more to it than just a fancy-looking rollerblade with a motor and power source?"  

Quentin Jones

“Sorry the man declares you can’t.” He jokingly shrugged with a commanding tone. “Oh well. This would have an age limit considering the speeds that they can reach and….well if I commercially sold them I wouldn’t have the extra features mine have got…” In Quentin terms which Randall would have a basic understanding of ‘extra features’ probably meant ‘Very illegal shit.’  

Randall Winters

Randall gave him a somewhat suspicious look. "What do you mean, extra features? What kind of special stuff would you even fit in there, a self-destruct button? Didn't take you for an amateur domestic terrorist, but who am I to judge?" In a none too subtle manner he tried to get a better look at the aforementioned item, not an easy feat while maintaining a remotely normal sitting position.  

Quentin Jones

“Oh I mean nothin’ much just just a minor self defence system.” He shrugged giving plausible deniability to himself as the skates and his feet smoothly moved to hide under the table. “Whoa I am not an amateur!…..or a domestic terrorist.” Now. Quentin wasn’t a domestic terrorist. He didn’t hurt the sheeple unless in self defence. But he does have a knack for getting information about the corporations and government that shouldn’t be seen by the public.  

Randall Winters

"Right, good luck convincing me like that. But it's all good, I wouldn't snitch on you. Not for a low offer, at least." He joked and soon gave up on the inspection, not in the mood to start crawling on the floor. "Fine, another topic. Do you tinker with pretty much anything or just specific electronics? Have you dabbled with instruments, for example?"  

Quentin Jones

“Oh you gotta at Least get like a mil or two if you ever rat me out.” He joked back and smiled. “Anything I can get my hands on. Don’t tell me you broke ya fuckin’ guitar Cus I can fix it and make it play like new but you’re paying for my lunch if it is. I’ve got plenty of experience in my good olde days of ‘self discovery’ drums, microphones, guitars, basses, violins, a cello once, keyboards y’know and more.”  

Randall Winters

"Nah, it's in decent enough shape and I can at least maintain it well enough... I was mostly just wondering whether you could build a sniper rifle into it or something cool like that." He said with a poker face that would've been entirely plausible if his statement hadn't been so absurd. "But in seriousness, maybe you are better at tweaking them than I. Probably, yeah. And if you build state of the art stuff from scratch, that's got to be way cheaper than buying licensed stuff, right?"  

Quentin Jones

“No can do buddy. It’s just simply not possible.” I could so fucking do that but a flamethrower meets the rockstar style way better. Leaning forward he placed his hands together his elbows on the tower. “Let the craftsman know what you need. Licensed shit you pay for style and a name. It’d take me a few attempts and some research to get what I need done and the materials but I’m sure I can do it. Will it be the best most comfortable shit? Fuck no. Will it work and be hard to break if you’re not a dickhead? Yes.”  

Randall Winters

"What, you're actually considering it? Be careful not to use up all my luck before I actually need it." He gave the matter some thought and absentmindedly drummed some complex melody on the table before responding.   "I mean, I can handle a lot of different stuff if I have to and can take my time to practice a bit, but I guess guitars are my main thing. It'd definitely be interesting to have one custom made since the regular ones leave a lot to be desired when you have a trained ear for it, and I haven't had the money for anything super fancy. I figure you could probably use my opinion when working on it anyway, so we could try to work something out one of these days. If you have time, anyway." Judging by the change in his expression and posture, the idea had him genuinely interested.  

Quentin Jones

“I am not luck I am skilled.” He shrugged and listened intently nodding along. Plans already tinkering and exploring in his head. “Well when you get the money I’ll help you design ones for the specific sounds and designs you need.”  

Randall Winters

"What, I thought you'd just find the parts in the garbage and work your magic, help a friend out and all that." While it was hard to say for sure, he was probably simply joking. "I guess that's a plan, then. I'm not really sure how soon I'll be able to save anything up, but here's hoping. This won't help me get hired today, but maybe it'll come in handy further along the way."  

Quentin Jones

“That’s for my special projects. A guitar I’d probably need y’know proper wood and strings and shit for. I’m an engineer and an inventor, hell maybe even macgyver but a magician? No. I don’t do magic I do logical miracles.” Quentin shrugged doing movements with his hands to emphasise his point that for some reason he’d need money for guitar creating. “Maybe it will. Maybe it’ll even land me a job as her personal guitar maker. Pfft.” He chuckled at the idea. Like he’d ever do that.  

Randall Winters

His reaction was somewhere between a nod and a shrug; crafting anything fancy from trash was way beyond him anyway and using some quality materials was at least somewhat reassuring. "If you're interested, I'll be sure to recommend you if the finished product is as good as you're making it sound. Then again, having my own secret advantages wouldn't be bad either. Anyway, how much do you think you'll need to get started? Maybe I can't cough it all up at once, but I won't ditch this so I don't mind stretching the project out a bit. But I guess you as the craftsman know best."  

Quentin Jones

“I dunno. Gotta draw up some drafts and plans n shit.” Quentin shrugged shaking his head before a long sip of his drink was down. “You’re fuckin’ right I’m the best craftsman you know. Gimme a few days to research, drink and draw up and I’ll give you a prediction then. So I’ll call you. How long you got til the meeting thing?” Flicking his wrist Quentin looked to his watch before looking up to Randall. “I can speed and take backstreets but it’ll only get us there so quick. Implyin’ I don’t get pulled over.”  

Randall Winters

"Alright... Just don't overcharge me. The sooner I get my hands on a proper custom instrument, the better for both of us. The world doesn't know what it's missing, but our wallets definitely do." He joked and took a look at his phone, then gave a shrug. "Eh, I guess there's no point in delaying it. I doubt they'll mind if I'm a bit early... And don't even joke about getting pulled over. I don't think Roslyen had me take anything illegal, but I'd rather not find out."  

Quentin Jones

“Pfft me overcharge? Dude I ain’t the government or my parents.” He waved the joke away with one hand. “Yeah? Alright well it seems like Percy got busy. I can give you that lift now you ready?” He asked flicking a key from his sleeve into his hand and spinning it around his finger.  

Randall Winters

"Typical not to even send a message... But what can you do, I guess." He finished the coffee with another scowl but didn't seem particularly reinvigorated judging by the yawn. One could only hope the prospect of playing would properly awaken his senses. "Yeah, better just get it over with. Do you know where the studio is?"  

Quentin Jones

“Hey sometimes shit happens.” Quentin shrugged finishing his water bottle with a swig and absentmindedly chewing on whatever food he had. “Nope just point while I drive and I’ll find it.”  

Randall Winters

"Yeah, we'll just have to give him a piece of our minds when he shows up online. I almost feel bad for him already..." He joked and motioned for the check. "Okay, here's hoping I actually got it right, it seemed to show up on Maps all right. At least we have a bit of time to spare if you get lost."  

Quentin Jones

“Good thing I’m the one with the function brain then.” Quentin chuckled slapping the money onto the table. “Just get it up on your phone and tell me left or right. I’m sure the speeding will wake you up.”  

Randall Winters

"My brain's just fine, it just doesn't work on anything that useful. According to most people, anyway." Once the payment was done, he got up and began to head out. "Hope so... I spent most of Friday night fuck knows where and have been using most of my time composing since then. They want me to perform something original, see, and I had only ever done random snippets before so trying to stitch them into something proper almost drove me crazy."  

Quentin Jones

“Yeah but just fine isnt as good as mine so.” He chuckled skating over towards the door. Seriously if he was a woman in the 50’s he would have been a perfect roller skating waitress. “Sounds it. You tried the Gatorade mix I sent you to get over the hangover?”  

Randall Winters

He yawned and grumbled something barely audible about Quentin's elitism, allowing him to take the lead to get to the car. "Yeah, didn't have it on me when I woke up but at least it did some good. Probably would've done even more with some proper sleep... Not that I didn't even catch a wink, but do you think it's true that if you're held awake for long enough, your brain actually shuts off completely once you fall asleep?"  

Quentin Jones

“No. you just start micro-napping. Minor hallucinations.” Quentin answered knowing the answer already possibly from first hand experience as he lead the way to his crappy 2002 Honda Civic that had been completely scrapped inside for speed and tech. “I’ll grab a five hour energy on the way.”  

Randall Winters

"Yeah, but what if you're kept on stimulants or something? I read about an old experiment once, though in hindsight it might've been a creepypasta after all. That'd explain the cannibalism, at least." He continued the random topic with a shrug, eyeing the vehicle and giving him a nod.  

Quentin Jones

“Did you let an old white guy stab you with a needle?” Quentin chuckled sliding over the hood of the car and sitting into the racing seat on his side and doing the seatbelt up. “Probably a creepy pasta. Or one of those shitty Netflix horror movies.”  

Randall Winters

"Not that I can recall, at least. Assuming the tattooist wasn't one, at least." He replied, seemingly giving it some actual thought as he got in as well, then looked up the destination. "Probably, yeah. Though they did some wild experiments even here, so you can only wonder how far they went elsewhere."  

Quentin Jones

“You’re probably fine then….unless you smoked something a homeless guy handed you. Smoked a pixie dust laced joint one and I’m still recovering.” He shook his head and started the car the engine roaring to life and tbe turbo’s whirring softly. This car was clearly working despite the fact it sounded like he slammed a V8 into it and made it into a machine to destroy god.   “They did everywhere. You been doing the right routine with the tattoo? Shit can get gross if you don’t do it right.” The car leaped forward into the traffic as Quentin slapped a cigarette into his mouth from the glovebox and lit it.  

Randall Winters

"I sure hope I didn't... Whole thing's sketchy enough that I could probably sue Roslyen if she wasn't rich and my potential employer." While he wasn't necessarily an expert, the sound alone told him more than most average people might've noticed about the car. "More or less, yeah... No infection or whatever, and I can still hold a guitar, that's what matters. And even if it's a bit stupid, it doesn't even look too bad." He briefly rolled up his left sleeve to show a rose intwined in a chain around his wrist, but made no move to show it off further.  

Quentin Jones

“You can probably die the tattoo parlour. Legally they ain’t meant to work on drunkards.” Quentin shrugged racing to a drive-thru pharmacy and picking up a tone of 5 and 10 hour energies and throwing one to Randall. “Drink that address now.”  

Randall Winters

"Son of a... I was gonna say, they definitely shouldn't be allowed to do that. Then again, probably not worth it unless I get sepsis or something. And I haven't taken the time to figure out the specifics, anyway." He gave a shrug and showed the address along with the directions, ready to give them out loud along the way. After quickly checking the contents he got started with the drink; maybe it'd help with the ordeal, and he'd probably be able to crash back home before long in any case.  

Quentin Jones

Quentin pulled over on a side street with no cops or camera’s for a second and pressed a button. Not that Randall would see but the plates would flip before Quentin started racing to the location like a madman. “Better start we’ll be there in five minutes.”  

Randall Winters

"...Wait, this isn't where-" He was quickly interrupted by the acceleration, maybe not outright shocked but certainly surprised. Everything seemed to be taking an unexpected turn for him lately, and he could never seem to tell if it was going to end in triumph or disaster. "What the fuck now?! We're not in a hurry unless you actually want to get pulled over!"  

Quentin Jones

“Dunno don’t care.” He responded quickly with a shrug the car weaving through traffic and slowing down as any cop cars went past or as they got close to any lights. “Don’t worry about it we’ll be fine. I’ll just put on the charm! I’m a white guy!”  

Randall Winters

"As long as you manage to stay on the road..." He sighed, relaxing a bit after the initial surprise. Okay, better not be too harsh. It'll backfire if he ever hears about that motorcycle. "Do you always show off like this, or only around handsome guys like me?"  

Quentin Jones

“Oh what’s that slam into pedestrians?” The car began slowly getting closer to the sidewalk as he accelerated stopping once he had moved lanes. “Not showing off it’s how I drive. Don’t want you late ‘n Randall. Don’t flatter yourself. Your ass is too flat.”  

Randall Winters

"Why do only assholes and weirdos agree to hang out with me...?" He joked, theatrically shaking his head. Much as Quentin might try, this little joyride wasn't going to scare him; there was no reason he'd put Randall in actual danger. Probably. Maybe. "For real, though. You'd think someone would give a shit when this happens in broad daylight. Not that I mind, but still."  

Quentin Jones

Randall was in actual danger. Quentin was breaking the speed limit as much as possible. Being around Quentin meant something bad was blunt to happen eventually though as they closed towards the store. “Eh they won’t bother chasing with traffic this dense they’ll just run the plates.”  

Randall Winters

"...Okay, I guess that lets me off the hook, at least... But what about you? The way you say it makes me think you have a plan." He said with a raised eyebrow as he glanced at Quentin. No way he was going to openly show any concern... Even if things seemed to be getting a little unpredictable here.  

Quentin Jones

“Wing it.” He shrugged looking at the time and quickly shifting gears as he slid into an alleyway and raced through it. “We’ll be there in like twenty seconds.”  

Randall Winters

Man, him not becoming some CEO might be doing everyone a favor. Makes for pretty good company though, long as he doesn't get me wrapped up in too much trouble. "At least you're quick, I'll give you that. Out of curiosity, have you ever crashed?"  

Quentin Jones

“Only when I need to be. Depends.” Quentin looked over as he slid the car into a parking spot and rested his arm on the wheel. “This car? Nope. My car? Nope….an idiots car my parents? Yep many times on purpose.”  

Randall Winters

"Rich kids and their amusements... Warn me in advance before letting me in a car you're planning to destroy, yeah?" He checked the time and made sure he had his notes, nervously fidgeting with his pockets. "Guess this is it... Hope they don't mind me looking like a zombie. Cheers for the ride, though."  

Quentin Jones

“Actually the wrecking cars was from my years jumping town to town going into any punk pub I could.” He chuckled opening the glovebox and pulling out some makeup throwing it to Randall. “Make you look less dead. Never know when you need it. Now put it on. Go in there, kick some magical pop-punk ass.”  

Randall Winters

"Seriously, makeup? Oh well, guess I might have to get used to it if I make it to the big stages." He gave a shrug and made a quick effort to hide the worst signs of his condition. "Yeah, guess I should just get it over with... I'll let you know when I'm done, no need to wait for me." With that he got out and marched into the building, quickly giving him a thumbs-up as he reassumed his usual more nonchalant expression.  

Quentin Jones

“Don’t knock it til you try it. It’s like having feminine products in your bathroom. Are you gonna use it? Maybe probably not, is a lady friend gonna need it? Probably. Now stop stalling.” Quentin said practically pushing Randall out of the car and watching him walk away before the doors lock shut and he pulls out a screwdriver and leans into the back beginning to work on something.