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Quentin had no flaws, at least none that he recognized or acknowledged. If some witch wanted to cheat on her fiancée with him, it wasn’t any of Q’s business. It wasn’t like he was the one cheating. The few real relationships he’d been in, Q had been faithful. Even if the relationships never really lasted long enough to put him to the test, he didn’t think of himself as the sort to cheat. Adultery wasn’t for him, but he didn’t begrudge any hot piece of tail who wanted to partake in it with him.

“Like you even need to ask! Give me three minutes,” Q replied, dropping his things on the bench near his locker before heading to the showers for a quick wash.

Pfft. “I’m obviously right,” Q said confidently, if not even a little offended at the hint of doubt in his best mate’s voice. Taking Kit’s extended hand and pulling himself up onto his feet, Quentin brushed his hair out of his face with his free hand. “I need a shower,” he confessed, knowing if they were going to be going anywhere, he wanted to smell a right bit better than he did right now. “Think that engaged chick would mind a little company in there?” he asked, mind wandering back to the hottie who had rebuffed his advances earlier but she had no doubt come and gone in all the time he and Kit had spent in the training room.

Man, this was going to be a great night. A big arse party, dancing, liquor, and a smoking hot date. Quentin really knew how to spend his free time. He worked hard all week, and sometimes even on the weekends, so when he was off he liked to take full advantage. And speaking of taking full advantage... “You look great,” he said to Immy, his date for the evening. They had met a few days earlier and after chatting her up a bit and making sure she was good to go, Q asked her out. A party was a perfect place for a first date, according to the blond hit wizard, as there would be enough going on to avoid any awkward lulls in conversation and plenty of distractions in case the sexy brunette on his arm ended up being a dud. Pulling open the door to Eric’s shed, Q let Immy enter first and took the opportunity to check out his date’s bum as he followed inside behind her. “You want a drink?” he asked, coming up beside her and wrapping his arm around her tiny waist, speaking softly into her ear to be heard over a rocky rendition of a muggle song someone was attempting. Cool! Karaoke. Quentin wondered whether Immy would be up for that sort of thing tonight.

It was most likely the conversation that had caused Quentin to overtake his best mate, seeing as how the half-vampire had supernatural speed and strength that far outweighed anything Q’s training could develop, but Q still grinned like a jackass at the sight of his gob-smacked friend on the floor. Q repositioned his staff over Kit, as if any wrong answer might elicit another sturdy beatdown, but Kit’s response, though wholly incorrect, only evoked a chuckle. “I was thinking never.” Pussy. His best friend was a sodding coward and boy did that make Quentin’s laughter increase. He himself had never struggled to confess his attraction for a woman, and generally found it quite rewarding more often than not. Kit could learn a thing or two from him.

Q pulled back his staff and extended his free hand to help Kit from the floor. “Sounds like a smashing plan. Die a virgin. Brilliant.” That wasn’t exactly the case, but in comparison to Quentin Kowalski, Kit might as well have been a virgin. He gave a crooked smile as he pulled his friend to his feet, already looking around for where he’d left his water.

He wanted to laugh at Kit’s shocked and horrified expression, but it persisted a moment too long and instantly took the fun out of it for Q. Kit attempted to clarify – something which was not necessary in the slightest – as he tried to catch his breath but Quentin simply stood at the ready and gestured for him to suck it up. “You mean in the ‘you ran out of tissues and had to move on to socks’ sort of thinking about him. Yea, I caught on to that a while ago.” He chuckled. “I’m not as slow as my reflexes make me appear.” Kit might have been though, if he thought he was laying out some huge revelation for his best mate. It was true that Q could generally read Kit better than most anyone else, his siblings often included, but the fact that the quiet man in front of him was mildly obsessed with Dumbledore’s newest (only?) vampire recruit had not slipped past the handsome blond.

His attack was block, but that had been expected and even the force with which Kit had pushed him backwards wasn’t enough throw off his balance. He widened his stance to keep himself upright before swiftly jumping into the air to avoid Kit’s staff that was sweep the floor right where he had been standing not even a second before. Q landed gracefully on the opposite side of the staff, his own coming down in an arch to swoop Kit’s weapon further out of the way and give him time to plant his feet firmly on the mat beneath him. “Spill,” he ushered, raising his staff back in a continued motion ready to strike again.

The training room was generally empty for a few hours after Agent Humbert’s recruits took their leave for the day and before the trainees of his own department came in. If he wasn’t out on assignment, or otherwise preoccupied, it was a fair assumption that one could find Quentin here, working out. Sometimes he liked to show up early and watch the end of the Auror Academy’s new recruits and make a pass at the more attractive prospects without the worry of potentially flirting with one of his future subordinates, but today he’d gotten held up in a briefing and the room was vacant by his arrival.

Shirtless and sweating, Q paused to get a drink of water, the punching bag he’d been demolishing also getting a much needed break. Dragging a towel over his face to wipe away the sweat, Q breathed heavily then dropped his towel and picked up his water bottle. The water was perfectly chilled and refreshing. He wanted to drink the whole thing in one go but that would only give him a stomachache and slow him down for the rest of his workout. His chest glistened as beads of sweat trailed down his muscular stomach and he smiled at a witch who was crossing on her way to the locker rooms. He resisted the urge to dramatically pour the remainder of his water bottle over his head, which he was certain would be played out in slow motion for the witch who was blushing just from a little smile sent her direction. “Hey,” he tried after her but she continued on into the locker room, leaving the distaste of rejection in his mouth.