<strong>Maxwell Quinn, in Decidedly More Classy Company Than He's Used To</strong><br/><br/>Quinn was surprised to see that he was not the last person to arrive to dinner, despite the fact that he'd smelled like he'd taken a dive into a smokestack somewhere.  Then again, the ones behind him were of the female persuasion...and the pilot was quite familiar with how complicated things could be for them in order to appear proper and such.  He greeted Lamarr, and waved off any sort of pre-dinner drink, saying that he was alright for the time being.  Truth be told, he really wasn't much one for that unless he needed to chill.  Which he didn't at this point.<br/><br/>Once dinner had started, Quinn sat down at the place that had his name placed on it.  He listened as Lamarr talked about today's dogfight, as well as the terms for the contracts each of them was being offered.  And apparently, despite his short time in the air, he'd managed to impress her enough that she was offering him the position of flight leader for the new quartet of pilots.<br/><br/>"Well, ma'am, seeing as how I'm basically useless without my plane, there really isn't much choice but for me<em>to</em>accept, now is there?"