Neanderthal Seeks Human(36)

“No, a person is the sum of their choices and, therefore, their actions.”

“No one makes all good choices, everyone makes mistakes.”

“Ah ha! Yes, that’s why I also consider intentions as the defining denominator in my good-people, bad-people confidence interval.”

Quinn’s mouth pulled to the side, “Good-people, bad-people confidence interval?” He leaned his shoulder against the side of the elevator car.

“Yes. Obviously, everyone makes mistakes but if you only see it as a ‘mistake’ because you’ve been caught then that’s bad. However, if you realize that you’ve made a mistake because you recognize the error of your ways and make an effort to change then there is a big difference.”

“So, really, you think a person is the sum total of their intentions and not their actions.”

The elevator opened and I stepped out as I continued my philosophizing, “No. Without action even good intentions are quite meaningless.”

I was abruptly struck by the comfortable progression of our conversation. Strangely, the ever present pins and needles I usually felt around Quinn seemed to be dissipating the further we ventured into this topic. I felt almost relaxed. We walked past Keira, who nodded at me but then suddenly stopped typing when she saw Quinn.

Before I could do a double take and ask Keira if she were ok, he countered, “What would a person be if they had good intentions and no actions?” His free hand pressed against my lower back and we continued down the hall to my office.

“Lazy.”

Just inside my door he pulled me to a stop with gentle pressure on my elbow, “And what about someone with bad intentions and good actions or good intentions but bad actions?”

“Stupid.”

He considered me for a long moment; his brow was furrowed but there was a small smile on his lips, “Let me get this straight, according to you there are four kinds of people: good, bad, lazy, and stupid. Is that right?”

My eyes drifted over Quinn’s face as I contemplated his summary of my philosophy, “More or less, that’s about right. Think of it like a four quadrant scatter plot graph.”

He blinked at me, “Use a different analogy. I don’t work much in four quadrant scatter plot graphs.”

I laughed and walked to my desk, “Ok. How about a map of the United States? Divide it up into north, east, south, and west. Let’s say I typically always take trips due north but sometimes I go east. Sometimes I go north-east and, on rare occasions, I go south. Each trip I take is a dot on the map. Where ever there are the most dots represents my personality.”

“Therefore, someone could be a good person with a tendency to be slightly stupid?”

Slowly I nodded, “Yes, precisely. Take me for example. I feel confident saying I’m a good person with a tendency to be slightly lazy and a much more precipitous tendency to be stupid, especially when it comes to non-work related decisions and actions.”

“And what kind of person do you think I am?”

My gaze met Quinn’s as he leisurely crossed to stand in front of me; his features were set in a detached mask of indifference but his eyes were piercing and steady. The pins and needles immediately returned; my heart quickened; my neck was hot.

“Uh, well,” I let out a slightly unsteady breath and let my fingers rest on the desk, mostly for balance. He stopped less than a foot from my position so we were both standing behind the desk; I had to tilt my head backward to maintain eye contact; “I don’t think you’re stupid or lazy.”

“Hm.” A whisper of a smile briefly passed over his face, “So that leaves either good or bad.”

“I tend to think good.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you helped me- both at the club and also putting in a good word for me here.” I licked my lips, my mouth felt dry, “I still need to return your sister’s clothes and I didn’t get a chance to thank you for arranging the interview.”

His eyes lost focus and he frowned. Abruptly he took a step back and affixed his attention to the floor; he lifted the hand that held the take-out order, “I’m going to get this to Betty and stop by Steven’s office about your training this week. I’ll-” he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Suddenly I remembered my promise to Elizabeth regarding the Canopy room incident and some unknown person’s alleged inclination to drug women. Without thinking I took two steps forward, “Wait- before you go- I need to ask you something.”

He stopped, lifting his eyes once more, and waited for me to continue with patient interest. I attempted to swallow but my throat felt tight. I didn’t know how to bring this up so I just started talking, “So, about what happened at the club last week. I wanted to ask you- what I mean is, what happened to the person who, you know, who dosed me with the Benzodiazepines?”