quinn.

Quinn picks up on the conflict within Nyimara — trying to stay focused, trying not to get distracted by the secondary game of flirting — and he relishes in it. The Dunes Queen is a woman who gets whatever she wants, no matter how dirty she must get her hands, and to know that she wants him in any capacity… well, it is an honor.

Still, he knows better than to play into her desires too strongly. It is clear she is infuriated, and Quinn is no fool as to throw gasoline when can’t gauge the intensity of the existing fire. He listens, his blue eyes sliding lazily over the contours of her face, the delicate curves of her ears, the strands of hair that fall across her forehead.

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully when she is finished. Her plan might be deeply unsettling to some, but Quinn thinks that only those without children could ever truly oppose it. The coffee-colored stallion has no little brats of his own running around, but he’s clever enough to understand that there are some things he does not understand. Parenthood is a mystery to him, but he is at least not so ignorant as to have missed the abundance of instincts and attachments that come with a child.

About what could have possessed the half-brother to make such an offer with his own child, Quinn knows little, and cares less.

“I’m in,” he drawls, his eyes finding and focusing on her own. “I think it’s only fair.” He shifts to press against her, to feel the excited stirring of her body as she prances in place. “Just tell me where to begin my search.”

stallion. spanish mustang mutt. 15.3hh. smoky black overo.