Meanwhile at the mountain base, specifically at the Quinn grandparents' residence, the air was thick with a heavy, uncharacteristic silence. The sprawling living room, usually filled with the chaotic laughter of the massive Quinn clan, now felt cramped and somber.
Grandpa Quinn sat in his favorite high-backed armchair, looking smaller than usual. He had flatly refused to go to the hospital, claiming that his 'batteries were simply running dry' and that he had no intention of spending his final days smelling like antiseptic and listening to heart monitors.
Sunshine had spared no expense, bringing in a rotation of the best nurses and private specialists, but even those doctors could only offer a sympathetic shrug.
"It's just time, Mrs. Quinn," the doctor had whispered earlier. "Every part of him is just… tired. We can keep him comfortable, but we can't reverse the clock."
