Lieu: Le Penthouse de Caldwell
Interagir avec : A Drunkard et The Cool Roomie 

New York la nuit était pratiquement une ville différente et certainement la version de New York que Quinn préférait. Quand le soleil était levé, tout semblait plus... muté. Imbécile. Comme si les gens n'étaient que sur le point d'aller à leurs jours, prendre le métro pour des emplois de bureau ou les touristes à Times Square étant wowed que cela ressemble à ce qu'il fait dans les films et les émissions de télévision. C'est la même chose que n'importe quelle ville, vraiment, le soleil vient avec certaines responsabilités et attentes qui rend la vie urbaine plus d'une corvée et d'un ennui que toute autre chose. Sinon, pourquoi tous les films auraient les meilleures parties après la tombée de la nuit?
Quinn n'était pas à l'abri de la corvée et de l'ennui de la vie de la ville du matin. Quand elle est revenue à son appartement commun, c'était après le départ de sa colocataire. Quinn l'a appelée mais, après n'avoir reçu aucune réponse, elle a serré les épaules et a fait ce qu'elle s'est arrêtée pour faire. Une douche chaude. Séchage de l'air. Ouvrir une fenêtre et fumer - Josie a mentionné une fois l'odeur de la fumée et son aversion pour elle et Quinn n'était pas tellement un trou du cul que de cracher de la fumée dans le visage de Josie. Cela n'a pas empêché Quinn de sentir la fumée de cigarette, mais elle espérait au moins que l'appartement ne sentirait pas le ciel. Parmi tous les compagnons de chambre que Quinn avait eus au fil des ans, Josie était probablement celle qu'elle aimait le plus. Quinn n'avait pas d'œil pour la mode, mais n'importe qui avec ces cheveux et ce piercing nasal était quelqu'un avec qui Quinn pouvait accrocher.
Au moment où elle était habillée, le soleil était haut au-dessus. La tenue de Quinn était décontractée, ce qui était une façon de dire qu'elle portait une veste de costume avec une paire de pantalons. Il n'y avait pas de code vestimentaire pour Out There, le magazine alternatif de style de vie qu'elle copiait, mais Quinn aimait toujours avoir au moins l'air d'avoir chié sur un boulot. Plus les gens dans le métro lui ont toujours donné l'air quand elle portait ses trucs chics, et au moins une personne a demandé si elle faisait une impression de Bob Dylan.
Quand Quinn a rendu compte à son petit bureau dans les bureaux de Out There, il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour qu'elle soit poursuivie par Dans la plupart des cas, Quinn s'entendait bien avec Kris, et Kris s'intéressait à toute l'ambiance de Quinn, sentant d'abord un esprit gentil avant que Quinn n'indique clairement, après une nuit de comportement incroyablement peu professionnel entre collègues, qu'elle n'était pas comme Kris mais qu'elle était respectée et soutenait sa cause et sa décision.
"Est-ce qu'elle en valait la peine?" Kris a demandé avec son bras se reposant sur le mur de la cabine de Quinn.
"Elle avait un chien. Il a un chien." Quinn a répondu sans lui enlever les yeux des documents sur son bureau, la tâche du matin ne fait aucun doute.
"Salope."
"Je pense que c'était un homme, en fait."
"Même pire. Quoi qu'il en soit, je pensais que tu devrais savoir que l'E.I.C. On a quitté le Dream Up Festival. On peut toujours y aller, mais ce ne serait pas comme la presse. Ça t'intéresse?" Kris espérait clairement une réponse positive.
"Est-ce que ça doit être ce soir? J'ai quelque chose..." Un mensonge, bien sûr, mais Quinn voulait autre chose que d'assister à un festival de théâtre qui ne montrait aucun de ses matériaux. Le même matériel qu'elle va un jour se présenter quelque part.
"Ça va jusqu'au dix-huitième. Tu devrais trouver le temps d'aller avec moi un jour. Vous êtes écrivain, n'est-ce pas? Je peux vous présenter certaines personnes. Dis-moi, Quinn, je ne suis pas seulement ton associé, je suis ton ami." Kris a doucement frappé sur le mur de la cabine avant de partir pour finir son propre article. Quinn est retourné au travail, la monotonie se terminant seulement quand la journée de travail l'a fait.
La nuit était jeune alors que Quinn a fait son chemin vers le bas du trottoir sans aucune destination claire à l'esprit. Elle voulait prendre à manger, peut-être dans une pizzeria merdique, mais elle était ouverte aux idées pendant qu'elle allaitait la cigarette dans sa bouche. Une nuit sans plan signifie une nuit ouverte aux possibilités, et on est arrivé à frapper alors qu'elle passait devant les appartements pour des enfants de fonds de fiducie et de vieux flippants avec leurs jeunes amoureux d'or aimant. Se tenant à l'extérieur de l'endroit, avec des lumières et des sons provenant du plus haut étage, était le poil rose familier.
"Oh merde, c'est toi, Josie? Petite ville, n'est-ce pas? » Quinn a jeté un bras autour de Josie pour un câlin latéral rapide avant de se hanter vers le Jasper clairement boosté. "Votre fête? Merde, je m'en fous si je ne suis pas sur la liste des invités, je monte. Si vous avez le droit d'entrer, je suis un fichu VIP."
Quinn a relâché sa prise sur Josie et a sorti sa cigarette avec une touche au sol à côté d'elle. "Tu veux être mon plus un, Josie? N'importe quel bon crasher de fête a besoin d'un co-crasher."
Une fête dans un loft? Un peu hors de sa timonerie, préférant les partis les plus frénétiques et frénétiques de la classe inférieure rejette et oublie, mais même les riches bailleurs de fonds pourraient bénéficier grandement de la présence de Quinn. En plus, ça devait être plus amusant une nuit que d'attraper quelque chose chez Sbarro et de se demander où tout allait mal pour finir dans un putain de Sbarro.
Drama Division || Writing || Fledgling Playwright/Screenwriter
"Just because all the world's a stage doesn't mean everyone gets the spotlight. We can't all be the protagonist in our lives."
For the Record

║ Name ║
Quincy Anise Dimandario
║ Acceptable Nicknames ║
Quinn
║ Birthday & Age ║
May 13, 24
Chicago Born, New York Adopted
║ Gender & Sexual Orientation ║
Female || Biromantic Homosexual
║ Other Labels ║
Raised Catholic, had the obvious crisis of faith, still considers herself Catholic albeit a rarely attending one. There's a lot of Greek running through her but there's Italian to be found as well. Her politics are her own but she's not about to go to any rallies. Society sees a trainwreck on the horizon. They might be right. 
║ Occupation ║
Copy Editor for an alt entertainment rag
║ Appearance ║
It's no big secret to anyone that Quinn leans in heavily to the whole androgynous angle in nearly every aspect from her hair to her attire and even to her voice which has that coarse edge to it, though that could easily be from the smoking habit. Baggy, boyish clothing make up the norm of her day-to-day outfits though she prefers to think of it as just simply clothing. There's no adherence to fashion trends or the like, she's no model and she doesn't care to follow the always changing trends, for Quinn putting on some graphic tee featuring some shitty band underneath a flannel jacket straight out of a grunge video is just as fashionable as whatever the people in Milan or wherever are cooking up. Quinn never lets her hair grow out, as that would serve only to ruin the image she has spend years building and maintaining, and in her circle and sphere of influence, image is crucial.
Quinn's skin is pale, spending a lot of time indoors tends to have that effect, and any makeup she uses is done not to enhance or draw attention to but to lighten and conceal. Her presence is noticed without having to resort to extravagant makeup displays or eye catching outfits. There's artwork on her body, centered on her arms, tattoos with little meaning beyond looking cool at the time or memories now better left forgotten, permanently attached to her skin as a reminder of mistakes and the idiocy of youth.
And yet, arguably the most noteworthy thing about Quinn's appearance is her height. She's not unusually short nor tall, though she stands at 6'2" and is considered tall compared to most of the other girls she associates with. Her build is rather slender but unmistakably feminine once you strip away the baggy clothing that serves to hide her curves and bust from prying eyes.

"I don't know what got into me. Hot and cold water meeting. I'm telling you, there's no place I've been; Where my mind stops wandering, wandering."At First Glance
║ Personality ║
The Positive:

 Punctual
 Expressive
 Opinionated

The Negative:

 Addict, and not just to cigarettes
 Overworked, Overstressed, Self Inflicted
 Selfish

What You See:
Someone overly confident in their own skin from the way she walks about with that swagger and that look that says more than words ever could. A shark in an ocean of guppies who won't hesitate to strike when opportunity arises and when her voice needs to be heard. Surely enviable to the right sort, desirable from a different, the dictionary definition of one who has no time for other's opinions and has long since run out of anything resembling a fuck to give. 
What I Know:
An emotional wreck crippled by insecurities and a desire to produce something great while only being capable of putting out absolute tripe. Stuck in a spiral that only ever sinks further and further downwards. Unable to hold onto connections, lovers, friends, and a settling realization that her voice will never be heard in the entertainment world. Misery loves company and surrounding herself with people just as miserable as her is how she can boost herself up, make herself look better than she feels she truly is. And the only one who knows this is herself, because her slavish devotion to her own image has taken up so much of her identity that any admission that she's headed for a self destructive path would be akin to social suicide.

"Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering - and it's all over much too soon." - Woody AllenOff the Record
║ My Dreams ║
What does every student that attends a fancy art school dream of? Quinn wants to be heard, she wants to write an award winning SOMETHING, be it a Tony Award winning play, an Academy Award winning screenplay, hell even a Pulitzer winning article would do, so long as it meant someone was truly hearing what she had to say. But that's just the surface, the obvious. Quinn wants more than that, she wants to be accepted. She knows full well that her associates only associate with her because of the superficial reasons - and she's guilty of the same, but that's how it goes and she's aware that as soon as her work is out there that all it would take is one negative reaction for everything to all come crumbling down. Would it kill her to find someone she could truly confide in and trust? It might, but she knows she has to. She dreams of having support in her life. Stability.
║ Fears ║

Putting her work out there
Failure
Being forgotten
Waking up alone
Rejection

║ Likes ║

Sunshowers and rainstorms
The smell of a bustling city
Baseball games
Live theater
The first cigarette of the morning
Cats
The colorful people on the late night subway

║ Dislikes ║

 Thunderstorms
 Dogs
 Politics, and not just in the governmental sort of the word
 Reaching the end of the last pack of cigarettes
 Upper East Siders
 People ducking out the morning after, before that awkward breakfast and even more awkward explanation

║ Brief History ║
Quinn, birth name of Quincy because her father was so adamant that his child be named after his grandfather, was born in Chicago by way of the suburbs. People in the suburbs of a city always claim to be from the city to make them sound more refined or cultured than they truly are. Quinn was what people would call a 'tomboy' but Quinn simply saw as 'playing with friends'; her parents and immediate family were stuck in the mindset of their childhoods still. Quinn had a knack for worming her way out of trouble, be it by blaming accidents on one of her boy friends or faking tears to gain the sympathy card, it was at such a young age that Quinn realized people will believe what they want to believe. That people rarely see beyond the surface. It didn't matter if there was a broken vase and she was holding the bat, if she cried and said David Weber from next door made her do it, then David Weber from next door was getting a spanking while Quinn was getting an extra scoop of ice cream for dessert.
High school was an interesting time for Quinn. She had the great pleasure of attending a school known more for its appearances in local papers than its curriculum. Students had a tendency to square up and throw down over the slighest offense that it became a bit of a game between students. Sort of a 'guess the reasoning', and kids would've bet on it if gambling weren't so heavily frowned upon. But it wasn't the fights that made high school difficult for Quinn but rather the fact that even at that young age she was standing out for all the wrong reasons. Kids at that age didn't care to know Quinn, only knowing her as the weird girl with the camera or the weird girl with the grunge look. She thought herself an artist among a country of boors.
Being accepted at a prestigious art school was a shock to damn near her entire graduating class as well as her family, so much so that the local paper ran an article about it (which currently hangs in Quinn's apartment) simply because it was one of the rare times a student from that school did something positive.
After Quinn arrived in New York she spent much of her first year familiarizing herself with the city when she could, taking weekend trips to Central Park and the other sites from all the movies. In her first year she was put into the filmmaking course as that had been what got her foot in the door, but it was in her second year that she decided to suddenly switch her focus to the writing path, something that baffled her teachers as Quinn showed a true knack for capturing people at their most intimate of moments, which was a gift in the world of film and photography. She offered only one explanation as to why she changed focus and that was a simple "I want to say something."
Quinn has spent the rest of her time in New York, which she has adopted as her home, staying there even over summer breaks, searching for that voice of hers. But as she enters her third year, after having had to repeat the first due to her change in path, she's yet to find it. And that has her worried. 

║ Area of Study ║
Playwright/Screenwriting
║ About My Audition ║
There was no portfolio of past work submitted with the application, instead what was submitted was a single file contained entirely on a USB drive. On it was a two hour film, a documentary really, consisting of footage shot by Quinn of the various fights that broke out on a regular basis both at her high school and within her neighborhood. She didn't shy away or edit around the footage, instead focusing on the brutality present in young people, cutting only when the adults arrived on scene to break things up. The footage was intercut with Quinn talking to the participants and only asking them the question of Why.
The Admissions Board saw the film as a rather shocking indictment of the 'inner city school system' in much the same way that Bowling for Columbine was an 'in depth look at gun violence' and not just 'exploitative and manipulative as all fuck', which is exactly what her footage was. It said nothing. It critiqued nothing. It was two hours of kids fighting each other over the pettiest of reasons, and yet some people in a different city, far removed from the realities of the world, applied meaning where there was none. Quinn sent it in as a joke, largely, but was shocked when she was accepted, the staff seeing potential for a great documentarian or filmmaker.
How wrong they were.
║ Year ║
Third
║ Living Arrangement ║
33 Park Point Drive, 3A 
║ Extra information ║
Is still a part of the Film Club but hasn't attended a meeting since her first year. Switching majors does that to a person.