9th Fix
[It's a lovely, clear Valentine's Day afternoon, and Quinn Hatch is running through the streets as fast as his long, lanky legs will carry him. Like many Mayfieldians, he received a mysteries package in the mail that came along with a flood of unexplained but forceful memories. Was it real, or was it Mayfield up to its old tricks again?
It didn't matter. He'll sort that out once he talked to Grell. If these feelings were real, than the one person in this town that he ever really loved was trapped with him here, and he wanted to see her. If it wasn't real... well, was he willing to take that risk? No way.
Completely out of breath, long hair disheveled, and holding a now frazzled bouquet of a half-dozen of the reddest roses he could grab, Quinn was rapping on the door of 1126 Taylor Road. What if she didn't remember? What if it was the town just screwing with him again, and he looked like a gigantic idiot? Time to find out.
Knock knock, Grell!]
It didn't matter. He'll sort that out once he talked to Grell. If these feelings were real, than the one person in this town that he ever really loved was trapped with him here, and he wanted to see her. If it wasn't real... well, was he willing to take that risk? No way.
Completely out of breath, long hair disheveled, and holding a now frazzled bouquet of a half-dozen of the reddest roses he could grab, Quinn was rapping on the door of 1126 Taylor Road. What if she didn't remember? What if it was the town just screwing with him again, and he looked like a gigantic idiot? Time to find out.
Knock knock, Grell!]