HUNTER: Are you still mad at me?

bree: spill

mercedes: whenever you decide to grace castleport with your presence, I'll be at the Double C.

HUNTER: Are you alright?

QUINN: The thing about houses like the Clarington's was that in spite of being so big and so beautiful, they often felt suffocating. Even with only a few friends gathered, Quinn's emotional claustrophobia caught up with her - it was almost painfully nice to be back with so many people who knew her again, and she needed a breather. So she gracefully excused herself, grabbed her beer, and took a walk - it wasn't the first time she'd been to the Clarington home, what with how close Hunter's mother and her own were, so she felt comfortable enough to leave the party long enough to wander; there was something pleasant about knowing she could rejoin the festivities whenever she wanted and be welcomed back. So she walked down hallways and through various studies and sitting rooms - the place really was as gorgeous as it was huge, and Quinn was just getting ready for the trek back when she rounded a corner and spotted none other than Sam Evans. She'd noticed him stepping away from the party but had assumed he'd be back, and hadn't noticed when he hadn't returned. She briefly considered turning right back around and pretending she hadn't seen anything - that would be the respectful thing to do - but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't concerned for him, in spite of everything. The Toaster Incident had weighed heavily on her mind, more heavily than she expected, and it was this that caused her to softly clear her throat, announcing her present. "Are you lost?" Quinn asked, not unkindly, with a hint of a smile on her face. "I used to say Hunter should give out maps to guests."

QUINN: Have they bullied you into joining the HoCo decorating committee yet?