Quentin had worked himself into a formidable hunger and ate quickly for a while, not exactly rudely but neither showing off any great degree of decorum. It didn't help his case that his serving was too large to be considered proper among polite company, though that was one rule he was glad to ignore. Especially after a day of quite so much... activity. His whiskey and food were each half gone by the time he spared a moment to look across at Zoey, in all her made up splendour.<br/><br/>His eyes slipped up and down her, and the sight caused him to pause thoughtfully mid-mouthful, before he remembered himself and demolished what was left in his mouth. He had almost forgotten that she could be a sweet and innocent, pretty thing, in addition to a naturally graceful beauty, or a (now often exhibited) sexy little slut. Quentin had caught himself because it was a look he enjoyed, and not one that he'd have necessarily thought to encourage. Approval glimmered in his eyes, outdone only by curious contemplation.<br/><br/>He folded his cutlery onto either side of the plate and paused eating with a final gulp in order to step from the table. There was the unavoidable moment of 'what is he going to do?' as he stood over and behind Zoey, and he let himself linger there a moment more than was strictly necessary, wondering whether it would make Zoey... Well, he wasn't sure. Scared? Curious? Excited? They were all fairly valid responses.<br/><br/>In the end he stepped around past her and hooked one of the chairs by its back, before bringing it round to try and plant it more or less where she sat, in the spot by his side. He even waited for her to clamber to her feet before he swept it forward, making it all too easy for her to bundle down into it. With this done, and were she not sat unnecessarily close to him, it might have almost looked like a meal between equals. As it was she was relegated to a corner of the table, a spot that in high society would suggest someone was being tucked 'out of the way'. It wasn't a grand gesture then, but it remained a positive one, and her new position was better than the floor.<br/><br/>"Since you went through all that effort to priss yourself up, and since you've been a good girl today." He explained, as he settled back into his own chair, and then - via another gulp of his whiskey - into his own meal. He ate less ravenously now and more properly, having decided this was a meal and not merely food with his slave happening to be present. He threw her a softly spoken caution to conceal a slight growl. "Don't get too used to it, mind... But you might as well enjoy it. You wouldn't be there did I not think you looked particularly fine." A hand trailed across toward her, where it filtered through her jet black hair affectionately; hair that was several shades darker than the short, dark brown affair atop Quentin's own skull. It retreated soon enough to focus on eating but Quentin rather fancied he'd left Zoey with a temporary pass to speak, and act human.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>