Quentin's face darkened briefly at her lack of anything approaching a reply, but he appeased himself by tidying off his meal and leaning back, by which time the annoyance had flitted away. He was too full and too contented to rise to anger that evening. He ran his tongue against his teeth inside his mouth, making his cheek deform briefly, then pulled his glass over to rest on the edge of the table in easier reach. Periodically he sipped from it, but only ever a slight taste and it barely seemed to empty.<br/><br/>Finally, due to Quentin being both unwilling to leave the table and tired of the silence that had followed his fading enthusiasm, he broke the silence to goad her on. He spoke in carefully measured, short statements to express his dissatisfaction. Had she not looked sweet with her blushing cheeks and nibbled lip things might have been worse for her, or his words might have been stronger. "Your mind has wandered; what to? What do your thoughts dwell on that has caught your tongue, and your attention?"<br/><br/>Almost as soon as he'd asked it his eyes roamed naturally to her abandoned meal. He looked from it, to her, then nodded as though agreeing with some request, even though Zoey clearly hadn't spoken one. "Hold the thought, we'll speak on it somewhere more comfortable." He slipped from the table and slipped his fingers down the back of her collar, using it to guide her from her seat. He pulled low, dropping Zoey toward her knees indicitively.<br/><br/>They went into Quentin's study, where a long, thick leather sofa offered a more comfortable seat. Quentin didn't lead her the whole way, but he walked slowly enough for her to keep up and shot a few glances her way... Some of which made him smile, briefly proud of his elegantly dressed girl crawling in tow. When he dropped to sit he beckoned for her to follow him 'up' onto the seat, while promoting her to answer the earlier question with: "Your thoughts, then?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>