He plucked the offered business card with delicate fingers, nothing more than a simple forefinger and thumb touching the corner of the crisp white paper. He quickly glanced at the printed words, smirking. "Are you leading me to believe you're a surgeon who is as skilled in the kitchen as you are in the operating room? Forgive me my skepticism, though the combination does sound wholly appealing." He paused, slipping the card into the front pocket of his trousers. "I appreciate your restraint and your desire to see me well nourished. I'll be sure to arrive with an empty stomach and eager tongue."<br/><br/>Despite wanting to delve deeper into the enchanting persona of Dr. Ostergaard, Quinn knew their time together must be cut short. He could spend the rest of the night wandering through the various exhibits, drinking in the rich and stimulating art, but to allow Mikkel too much of him too soon would ruin the game. Quinn felt the heat burn between them, noted the hungry look in Mikkel's eyes as he examined the coral hue along his cheeks. If Mikkel craved to know him biblical sense, he was taking his time, offering to woo instead of demand and take. Quinn appreciated this subtle approach and wished to draw out the intrigue. At least for tonight.<br/><br/>"Unfortunately, I think it's time I retire for the evening. I've enjoyed our time together, Mikkel. I hope tomorrow night is just as satisfying." A grin bloomed across Quinn's face as he reached out, offering a hand and firm shake. He left Mikkel at the man with the melting face, steps carrying him swiftly back to the front of the museum where he collected his belongings. Satchel slung over his shoulder, Quinn retrieved the business card from his pocket, typing the number into his phone for safe keeping.<br/><br/>He ignored the few missed text messages from his parents asking where he had gone. He'd be back soon enough, no need to waste energy reassuring them of that. After a quick ride home where the driver didn't offer any inane chatter (much to Quinn's relief), the young artist returned home, locking himself away in his bedroom before Mr. and Mrs. Lau could get too invasive with their questions.<br/><br/>The hours ticked by slowly, even while he slept. Quinn couldn't seem to push Mikkel's striking image from his mind. Like a virus, Mikkel had slipped in through a minor break in Quinn's skin, flooding his bloodstream and multiplying madly until all Quinn could do was feel the effects of his sly invasion. His agitation was felt by his family, who watched with raised eyebrows as Quinn shuffled half-eaten food around his plate for breakfast, or retired immediately to his solitary cave after only a halfhearted attempt at finishing his meal. Quinn was often aloof, but his mind seemed to be lost someplace, a faraway landscape where gentle words and familial concern could not reach.<br/><br/>After donning a pair of dark blue slacks, a soft lavender button-up, and shoes so shiny one could almost make out one's reflection, Quinn hopped into a car, ignoring inquiries from his parents on when he'd be home, and headed over to the address Mikkel had so carefully penned onto the back of his business card. The car pulled up to the house at 7:52pm, prompt but not so much as to appear over-eager. He thanked the driver before exiting, eyes drawn away toward the house, curious as to what kind of home a surgeon's salary could secure around Portland.<br/><br/>He moved slowly toward the front door, casual and uncaring as was his habit, though his mind raced with predictions of what Mikkel had in store for him. What kind of food had he made? What would they talk about now that they didn't have de Sagazan conveniently occupying the vicinity? What tricks did Dr. Ostergaard hide up his perfectly starched sleeve? Quinn shrugged his shoulders, sighing wistfully as he reached the door. He supposed all his fretting didn't matter much. Either their night would go well or Mikkel would turn out to be no different than the other men who had tried to seduce him and Quinn would leave disappointed.<br/><br/>A sure finger pressed the button for the doorbell, leaving a smile on Quinn's face as he heard the familiar<i>ding dong</i>sound inside.