*Quinn Reilly rarely cries. Instead, he seethes in silence.
Sometimes, however, this is not possible.
The lights at the floor above Sláinte Agus Táinte do not get turned on that night.
But a phone rings in Belfast. And a mother and a son talk well until dawn.*
I was right. It looks good on her.
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Quinn Reilly retweeted
[There is no way around all the photos and videos of the... *vermin* in Serpent's End. The health department closes the bar indefinitely.]
Quinn Reilly retweeted
[More phones emerge, snapping, filming, and Bridget is beginning to sweat... And this is all *before* one of the rats *dashes* out from the kitchen, and all Hell breaks loose.]
Quinn Reilly retweeted
[She steps out into the bar proper just in time to hear a *shriek* as a woman dumps a roach, still writhing, from her full martini glass; her friend live streams the entire affair.]
"Oh my *God,* we're at Serpent's End, and there's a *bug* in her drink...!"
Quinn Reilly retweeted
I get a little lonely.
Get a little more close to me.
You're the only one who knows me, babe,
So hot, you're hurtin' my feelings.
open.spotify.com/track/5B6Kj…
*After a few days, still a bit annoyed but increasingly worried, Quinn glances from behind the glass of a window of a closed Sláinte Agus Táinte, trying to catch a glimpse of one @SourWithATwist across the street. This goes on for several days, unsuccessfully. Until...*
Quinn Reilly retweeted
Leading a horse to water.
Read: twitlonger.com/show/n_1ss5nn…
*At a very closed Sláinte Agus Táinte, one Quinn Reilly broods and boils, pines and ponders. Should he call Sylvia?
To say what, that Julia is being mean to him? Or that Julia is in danger?
Should he?
Eventually, he decides against it, but the phone burns in his hand.*
*After a long deliberation, he takes a shot in the dark and shoots @LivelyRadiance a text:
-txt- This is Quinn, from the bar. Could we perchance have a word re: Julia Bloom?






