<span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">Hearing that Quinn would not have found substantial satisfaction in a more altruistic response did not surprise him. Not in the least. There was nothing in Quinn's personality to indicate that he was an especially bad person - but then, Mikkel had never thought nor had he ever functioned in purely binary terms. Good, bad; right, wrong. All subjective terms hinging on any number of variables. Without having asked, or even broaching the subject, something told him that in that respect, Quinn was not much different from himself. Perhaps. Time would see to that one, too.<br/>
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"Some might call that a God complex," he noted with some measure of amusement, laying his utensils on the mostly finished plate. "Creating something from nothing is what God does, no? Though if one was to dissect that theory, one could argue that a clam is a god for creating pearls from grains of sand. Blasphemy, I know. But then, I never was an especially religious man." Much to his mother's chagrin. She had married a man of science and given birth to an atheist, albeit an atheist who found the belief in a god more interesting than the god itself.<br/>
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But Mikkel hadn't brought Quinn to his home to debate religion. First and foremost, he had brought him for dinner. And now that the meal had concluded, he had other things in mind. Prompted by the younger man for the possibility of dessert - if that was indeed what he implied - Mikkel took a final sip from his wine glass before moving to stand. Around the table he went, at first without a word, until he stood beside the seated Quinn, letting down a hand and taking his chin gently between long slender fingers.<br/>
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"Perhaps," he replied, coaxing his companion's head to tilt up and face him properly. "After." Craning down, Mikkel descended on Quinn without hesitation, lips closing over his in a kiss. It was gentle at first, but insistent. Unyielding. Nothing in Mikkel's manner indicated that he wouldn't release Quinn if the young man so desired, but neither was there any indication that he would draw away. He had, in effect, backed Quinn into a corner, trapped him in a seated position from which escape was possible, but not practical. In that way, his affect was a touch predatory, something for which he had never once apologized - nor did he expect Quinn would want him to.</span>