To Quinn's satisfaction, Mikkel seemed mildly amused by the younger male's queries. He watched as the corners of his companions mouth curled slightly into an attractive semi-grin, a subtle look Quinn wished to unwrap like an exquisitely decorated gift. How intriguing this one, with his eloquent speech, subdued facial expressions and deep knowledge of all things de Sagazan. He believed it rare for such qualities to align so smoothly with one another, encased inside the mind of a being other than himself. The desire to learn more about another person was one Quinn typically didn't experience, and it left him feeling warm and uncharacteristically tingly.<br/><br/>“You make a valid point,” Quinn mused, reluctant to redirect his gaze to the umber, crusty-looking sculptures. “A body without blood is useless, isn't it? An 'empty shell,' as you called it. I doubt I could think up a title any more fitting than that.” Fingers once again tapped at the plush lips on their owner's face, a deeply ingrained habit he was hardly aware of anymore. “It's interesting, isn't it, the amount of damage a human body can tolerate before a person dies?” he pondered, his mind beginning to wander as Mikkel listed off a handful of organs humans could bother to spare. It was a tenuous thought, related to their conversation only through the most fragile of tethers. Quinn was prone to such mental meandering, oftentimes allowing his thoughts to shift, fold, and transform into something which hardly resembled the original.<br/><br/>The sound of Mikkel's voice, having gone low and almost conspiratorial, snatched Quinn from his reveries and claimed his attention fully. The young man's lips were parted, frozen in place as his lungs seized and held onto a pocket of air. Normally repulsed when strangers grew too bold and invaded the invisible bubble Quinn had created for himself, for reasons the young male couldn't place he found Mikkel's closeness riveting. Perhaps it had something to do with the gentleman's objectively handsome face, or maybe how he had charmed Quinn with facts about one of his favorite artists had influenced the young artist more than he initially realized. Impossible to say just yet. He allowed his paused breath to escape him after what felt like a hour falling into Mikkel's intense gaze.<br/><br/>“Fresh... An unusual choice of terminology but not not one I can find reason to argue against.” Quinn smirked, catching his bottom lip between his teeth momentarily, doing his best to suppress the bubbling feelings of desire he felt brewing in his stomach. What was it about this man that called to him? He found himself both interested and suspicious, unable to define the cravings that seemed to crawl across his skin.<br/><br/>“Well, Mikkel, as you seem to have a solution to my little riddle whereas I have nothing, I offer you a challenge,” Quinn began, resisting the urge to lean even closer into the other male, though his voice was just as breathy and secretive. “Find me something you think will enliven me. Something<i>fresh</i>. I'm curious to see what surprises you have up your sleeve.”