A few hours and several drinks later, they wandered into a downtown plaza with a large fountain. It was a warm evening and Carrie was pleasantly buzzed. The mellow notes of a solo saxophone drifted towards them courtesy of a busker playing across the plaza.

In between sets at the club Carrie regaled Quinn with stories about her dad, Maggie and her nieces, even about Frannie. He listened to all of them with intense interest and asked lots of questions. When the band was playing she couldn't help but sneak several looks at his gorgeous profile. She was having a great time and felt like a schoolgirl again.

It wasn't until they were leaving that Carrie realized she had pretty much monopolized the conversation. He had said barely anything about himself.

"So who got you into jazz anyway?" she asked as they sat down on a bench across from the fountain.

"One of the few things I can thank my father for," he replied.

"Where's your dad now?"

"Passed away a long time ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Carrie, feeling foolish for hitting a sensitive subject.

"Don't be, he was a drunk asshole."

"What about your mom?"

"Mom remarried another asshole. We, uh, drifted apart after I joined the agency. My job wasn't exactly something she could brag about to her country club friends."

Carrie nodded. She had seen those types of parents at Georgetown. If you didn't graduate summa cum laude with a medical or law degree you could forget about making them proud. It made her grateful for her father's acceptance of her career despite his reservations about the politics of it.

"No brothers or sisters?"

"Just a couple step-siblings. Haven't seen them in years."

Jesus, Carrie thought. Quinn had no real family, no one to come back to. No wonder it was so difficult to quit the job. She remembered that he had a son whom he hadn't seen in a long time. She had a million questions about that, but thought better of it.

"So how did you get recruited anyway?"

"Dar Adal recruited me out of Harvard senior year. I was like 15 credits away from graduating. I suppose I didn't see much point in finishing at the time."

Carrie suddenly realized neither of them had ever known a "normal" adult life outside the agency.

She swallowed nervously and turned her gaze to the fountain, its multi-colored mist gracefully bending back and forth. "Are you worried about what happens next?"

"Going back to the hotel? Not really," he deadpanned.

Carrie shook her head. "I mean...do you worry that a normal life won't be enough?" She tried hard to picture Quinn the ex-assassin being satisfied commuting to an office job every day and doing yard work on the weekends. It didn't quite jive.

Quinn turned on the bench to face her. "Clearly you're worried."

"You told me once that the job was like a drug."

He looked down and cleared his throat. "A habit I'm trying my damndest to kick. But I'm not interested in talking shop tonight. Come on." He stood up and offered her his hand.

She smiled and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Where are we going?"

Quinn didn't reply but led her across the plaza closer to the sax player. He pulled her into his arms and began swaying back and forth.

Carrie had to suppress a little chuckle. He was really turning on the charm. Who knew this guy was such a romantic? she thought. The sax player began playing the familiar strains of "The Very Thought of You."

With her left arm resting on his shoulder and her head in the crook of his neck, Carrie felt the stubble on his lower jaw brush against her face and found it an incredible turn-on. The way he smelled was driving her crazy too - that intensely masculine mix of soap & aftershave - now with a slight whiff of bourbon. Hyper-aware of his hand on her lower back, she closed her eyes and quickly forgot about their prior conversation as they moved together slowly.

After a few moments Carrie couldn't take it anymore. She turned her head and began placing a trail of soft kisses on his neck, moving upwards. She felt Quinn's breathing start to quicken. She moved her head and met his gaze, lost in the depth of his blue eyes. He lowered his head and began kissing her, gently at first, then stronger and more insistent. She felt his tongue enter her mouth and felt her entire body go up in flames. It was enough to make her momentarily forget they were in a public place.

She broke off the kiss, breathing heavily. "Let's get out of here," she whispered.

Quinn wordlessly dropped a couple bucks in the sax player's case before taking her hand again.