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Character Name: Joseph Dean Hart II

Nickname: Typically goes by 'Dean', sometimes 'JD' or 'Junior'.

Character Age: 34

Character Birthday: December 14, 1990

Gender & Pronouns: Cis male, He/Him

Sexuality: Homosexual

Time in Reno, Nevada: Native

Occupation: COO at Hart Real Estate Development

Neighborhood: Arrowcreek

Face Claim: Jonathan Bailey

#rn.intro #intro; dean hart.#pinned; dean hart.

briggster

In order to survive a very long night of performing, Briggs had done what any great musician and front man of a band does; drugs. He was on cloud nine as the band performed their rendition of I Want You to Want Me at the end of their second set and thanked the crowd by blowing kisses and high fiving the DJ as she took over the stage for her set. He had already caught a glimpse of Dean from the stage, a few times. Maybe too many times. But that was almost normal when the other man was around. His smirk grew as Dean immediately approached him though, Briggs stepped closer to him an eyebrow raised. "Why so curious? You trying to figure out your next move or what?" He teased, his eyes moving up and down his figure as he let all the substances in his body take over like they normally did. "You know, if I didn't know any better I'd say you're enjoying the show."

deanhcrt

"Mmh, takes a lot more than a pretty voice to get my underwear off. Nice try, though -- I'm sure I can borrow a pair from one of your little groupies though?" Dean grinned smugly, swaying slightly as his balance began to betray him. "Dunno. Considering I had a few drinks to get through it..." He mused, eyes flickering towards the bartender momentarily. "A few more wouldn't hurt, though. Might make the rest of your sets more bearable. What do you think?"

TIME SKIP

He was far too drunk for this -- well, even if he wasn't drunk, this would have sent him over the edge. He felt like vomiting, his skin on fire with abject panic that far superseded any anxiety that normally coursed through his veins like a fright train. So much so that he didn't have time to hold himself back as he spotted Briggs in the crowd, only having parted momentarily before everything went down. "Please tell me you know a fucking way out of here," Dean practically hissed, instinctively grabbing onto the sleeve of Brigg's shirt as he practically barreled into him. "I've got no cell service down here -- do you? Can you -- didn't you and your Nickelback cover band have to load in from somewhere? Oh god, I think we're running out of air down here..."

#convo; all.#convo; briggs meldaba.#andres 001.#briggs 002.#( dear god hes annoying )

andresxtorres

If it were possible for Andrés to roll his eyes harder it surely would have occurred in this very moment. He'd briefly stepped away from Dean, wandering off to replenish their drinks. Though his gaze had continued to flicker back to his friend sulking in whichever chosen corner of the room. Returning with fresh flutes of champagne, AP couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of him. "I'm gonna start a rumor that Party City sponsored you to shit talk them. Feels like normal people would relate to things you hate. Dare I say, you are the life of the party this evening. In your cute little suit. Is that new? Did you dress up, baby Hart? Have you realized your last name is literally the same pronunciation as heart, yet you pretend you lack one. It's the irony of it all, really." Both crystal glasses were set onto the table between them, before he'd leaned his forearms onto it. "Haven't found anyone in here yet that'll turn that heart from ice to fire? See what I did there?"

deanhcrt

" -- why would they sponsor me to shit talk them? That seems like a bad business decision. This is why you could never have a career in PR." Dean commented with a roll of his eyes, as if his silly little contrarian-esque opinion even mattered. The male shifted uncomfortably, absentmindedly sloshing the liquid inside of his champagne flute as AP droned on and on. "Shut up. Shouldn't you be off -- oh, I don't know -- making out with my sister or something?" He snapped, attempting to ignore the sight of Dallas and AP's names paired together and projected on the far wall, something that surely wasn't helping his mood. "You're ridiculous. You know the only reason that I'm here in the first place is because I haven't had another occasion to wear this suit -- and, to answer your earlier question, yes. It is new. And yes, I know I look cute." Dean rolled his eyes, unable to help himself from indulging in AP's theatrics even if they pissed him off in his all-too sober state. "I'm not nearly drunk enough for that yet. Ask me again in an hour. Why, have you? If so, just lie to me because I will be so pissed if you ditch me right now."

#convo #andres 002.#convo; andres torres.#event; fire & ice gala.

where: fire & ice gala who: @becflores & dean

"I'm pretty sure that they've run dry of the champagne and are just serving prosecco." Dean remarked aloud with a slight scowl, yet continued to down his flute anyway. Honestly, if he was going to make it through the rest of the night, he'd need all the help he could get. "Which wouldn't be surprising given how the decorations look. Honestly, I think they'd have done better just cutting out paper hearts and gluing them to the wall than whatever they've got going on now."

#convo; all.#event; fire & ice gala.#bec 001.#convo; bec flores.

where: fire & ice gala who: @briggster & dean hart

Shots. Apparently some liquid courage was the only thing that ever got Dean out of his own head and into the fire, so to speak. What did it say about him that he needed to be under the influence to loosen up a bit, to untense his shoulders and, generally, not devolve into a literal panic attack from the sheer amount of tackiness alone? Probably a lot, but he wasn't one to think too far into things. The crowd started cheering as the band finished up their set, and Dean would be lying if he said he hadn't been eyeing the group -- and their front man -- from his place at the bar. Some liquid courage apparently went a decently long way, so the moment he saw Briggs descend the stage and head in his general direction, he found himself offering a smug grin. "Tell me, does getting pelted in the face with underwear make you want to give it your all? Does it help loosen those pipes?"

#convo; all.#convo; briggs meldaba.#briggs 002.#event; fire & ice gala.

where: fire & ice gala who: @andresxtorres & dean hart

"Just when I thought Reno couldn't get any more gauche." Dean murmured as he stood off to the side, a half-empty flute of champagne in hand and shoulders tensed to the heavens. Once again, he didn't know how the hell Andres managed to convince him to come to this godforsaken party -- he was a persuasive one, that bastard. Though, perhaps the prospect of getting black-out drink with everything else he had going on was more appealing than he'd care to admit. "If Valentine's Day as a holiday wasn't tacky enough. These decorations look like Party City got norovirus and threw up all over the club."

#convo; all.#andres 002.#convo; andres torres.#event; fire & ice gala.

briggster

"The rich giving out advice for free now? Fucking imagine that." Briggs tilted his head to the side, a wide grin taking over his face. Dean was unknown to him, very unknown, but also felt like someone that he should know everything about. Briggs knew the type. Rich, cocky, out of touch with reality. Still, he couldn't help but annoy him every time they saw each other, and he also couldn't help but try to ignore that one time they had gotten along far too well. When they didn't know who the other one was. "In my opinion, their displays were way more interesting when they had those male greeters waving at you right outside." he joked, clearly in a better mood than usual. "So just to be clear, you don't have a personal shopper? Silly as fuck. What else are you supposed to spend all your money on? The fuck?"

deanhcrt

"Doesn't take money to have taste. It's unfortunate that little biker gang of yours doesn't have that as one of its tenants." He tossed back, narrowed eyes flickering over the male as he attempted to suppress a matching grin. Briggs confused the hell out of him, and a lot of that was because there was this attraction -- one that Dean had felt initially but had quickly squandered away upon learning more about the male, his connection to the Sons. On a moral and ethical level he couldn't give two shits about the group, but his father's disdain had ultimately been passed down to him over the years, and al the town drama surrounding them didn't help. And Briggs, well, he definitely had his opinions about Dean's background as well, so truthfully, this was a match made in hell -- so then, why couldn't each of them help but poke and prod at one another? "Of course. How very pre-pubescent boy of you." Dean rolled his eyes, though quietly he couldn't help but agree. "No, no, of course not. I spent all my money cutting down rainforests and tearing down orphanages to build apartment complexes." He remarked dryly, adjusting his grip on his shopping bag. "No, moron, I had to get a new outfit for this stupid Valentines Day thing and now I want a coffee. Why do you care so much what I spend my money on, anyway? Are you hoping I'll buy you a little treat to get you to go away?"

#convo; all.#briggs 001.#convo; briggs meldaba.

nathanwalkerx

Nate’s eyes narrowed together briefly with that split second thought on whether he wanted to, “Probably.” At least if he was anything, he was honest. Giving a one-sided shrug, a slight grin soon rose as he held Dean’s gaze. “…Obviously.” He lowly repeated sarcastically, as if it was indeed obvious that Esquire was the one. “What this?” His focus dropped towards his own clothing momentarily - grey joggers and a graphic black tee, “Not into a lil' Kelsea?” or maybe it was the fact that he was wearing a tour shirt - which was something Nate did quite happily, he only bought them for the pure purpose of wearing them for when he worked out. "Don't believe ya." He was intentionally seeing if he could ruffle Dean a little, being entirely serious when it came getting him to the gym. "Fortunately for you I take card." he threw back, lifting both brows briefly, unable to hide his amusement there because actually Nate personally thought he was funny. "I'm being serious anyway.. think about it."

deanhcrt

Dean pursed his lips slightly, standing up a bit straighter then. "Well, a dying father does wonders for the psyche. Haven't you heard?" He found himself saying, a sarcastic grin tugging at his cheeks momentarily before glancing towards the coffee counter, where the barista was apparently and inconveniently backed up. He really wasn't in the mood to relay his entire sob story to Nate, of all people (of any people, really) but it was currently the hot-button topic of his life, wasn't it? And word had probably gotten around by now, anyway. "I -- of course I am. I'm guessing your kid is, too?" Straight men weren't into that sort of music, were they? He prayed that wasn't the case, he didn't think he couldn't handle that knowledge. "I just don't tend to by my athleisure from march tables." He gave a roll of his eyes, absentmindedly tapping his foot. "I am. Loose. I run. The loosest activity there is." Jesus, stop talking. "How very twenty-first century of you." Dean bit the inside of his cheek, attempting to suppress any hint of amusement. "Think about what? Letting you drag me to the gym and play trainer?" The idea was intriguing, he'd by lying if he said it wasn't, but as always Dean couldn't make anything easy for himself.

#convo #convo; nate walker.#nate 001.

briggster

CLOSED FOR @deanhcrt

LOCATION: sierra shopping mall

A smug grin appeared on Briggs' face when he saw the familiar figure of one Dean Hart appear just a few feet away from him. Mind you, he really shouldn't recognize him that easily, after all, Briggs was supposed to at least dislike him. And boy, did he act like it. Luckily for him, Dean didn't hold back either which probably it even harder for Briggs not to enjoy the banter between them whenever they ran into each other. "So what's your deal here? Don't you pay someone to do all your shopping for you, Mr. Gates?" He joked lightly as he approached the other male.

deanhcrt

The roll of his eyes had started even before Briggs had come out with that ridiculous quip, but it was fitting nonetheless. "Ha-ha. Maybe you should invest in your own personal shopper if you're going to keep going out wearing clothes like that. You do know that just because you can by second-hand whenever you want, it doesn't mean you have to. Or should. Right?" Truth be told, there was nothing wrong with the look -- in fact, Dean would be lying if he tried to say that the other male didn't usually look pretty damn good (even despite the outfits he had opinions no). Thankfully, he didn't need to say another thing. "So, what's your deal then? Come to stare at the Abercrombie & Fitch displays?" Dean tossed back, unable to help the slight smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips.

#convo; all.#convo; briggs meldaba.#briggs 001.

anisatcrres

Ah, she always did enjoy still managing to surprise people. Which was evident by the response he gave her. Then again, attempting to be nice to this douche was always going to be nothing but a surprise. Even she couldn't believe she still held a polite smile for this man. "Yes, me." She confirmed, a small bite on the end of me, as she knew exactly what he was trying to imply. For a split second, blink and you'd miss it, moment, the smile slipped and a look that could kill flashed across the features of the Latina. And then the smile was back, leaning back in her chair, she kept a poised posture, "Why, baby? You wanna be my tenant? Since we're such great friends, I might even be willing to cut you a deal." She commented, her tone sweet as sugar. Without missing a beat, she continued, "No -- not like that. I want a house, for myself. Something that I envision, not something premade that has another's dream on it."

deanhcrt

Dean kept his expression steeled -- or at least, attempted to -- as a razer sharp look flickered against Anisa's features, standing in stark contrast to the sickly-sweet demeanor she was putting on right now. Ah, that was the Anisa he knew well. Smirking lightly, he leaned back in his office chair and folded his hands over his abdomen. "There are...many other places on this earth that I would much rather live in. Chernobyl comes to mind." God, he was finding it impossible to bite his tongue, but he knew he needed to reign it in. After all, any day now in the coming months his dad would pass and he'd become CEO, the literal face of the company -- professionalism was key. Relatively speaking. "Okay, fair enough." Brows arched, giving her a once over. "You're not fucking with me, are you?" He had to ask. After all, in a normal world he couldn't imagine Anisa trusting him with anything of this magnitude. "This isn't some weird, convoluted scam? Not that I think you could pull one off, but..." So much for professionalism.

#convo; all.#convo; anisa torres.#anisa 001.

nymphomaniacfanclub

miss him every day

#musings; dean hart.#musings; all.#screaming

sweetfridays

♡ JONATHAN BAILEY vanity fair

#musings; visage.#queue.

nathanwalkerx

“Did I say that?” It was almost a challenge in response, one that came paired with playful hints to his gaze. Nate could take a very direct stab in the dark and say the answer was no, he didn’t look fine, considering the impending death that loomed over the Hart family and yet his heart wasn’t three times too small for him to mention it in the middle of a coffee shop. He had tact, at least. Which was more than his awareness of the blush daring on Dean’s cheeks. He chuckled, shaking his head lightly, “Impossible.” Queue his ego hitting out there. “You read that in GQ?” He returned, failing to actually answer - though wasn’t that an answer all the same? It was to Nate. “You should join me tomorrow, might loosen you up.” As he spoke he gave a slight shoulder shimmy, as if he was loosening those joints, raising both his brows teasingly he added with a wink, “Might even get your Frappuccino.”

deanhcrt

" -- Did you want to?" Dean's brows quirked upwards, matching the other male's teasing expression. It was odd, in a way, how quickly Nate could disarm him in one second and then make him feel like they'd found an easy groove with one another in the next -- of course, the former was typically caused by his own foot-in-mouth syndrome coming in full swing. "No, I don't get my lifestyle advice from GQ -- I read Esquire, obviously. But judging from your gym attire, you could stand to start reading either one. You do know that you can still have a sense of style while you sweat, right?" A scoff escaped him, but he couldn't help the way the corner of his lips curled up in a slight grin. "I'm plenty loose." Dean tossed back, his throat practically going dry when Nate offered a wink. God help him. "Ha-ha. Don't start something you can't finish, Walker. Is this how you sucker all saps that come into the Orchard into giving you tips? 'Cause, unfortunately for you, I'm out of ones."

#convo; all.#convo; nate walker.#nate 001.

noctivagcs

Dallas shot him a glare, letting a slow, heated breath out through her nostrils. "You want a fucking gold star for stating the obvious?" She snapped, letting her hands slid to the countertop, fingers drumming impatiently against the cold surface as she let him finish his lecture. "Get a grip? Really?" The words tasted bitter as she spoke them. "You think I booked a flight because I was bored shitless in New York and needed a goddamn retreat in cancerland? Sorry to disappoint, brother." She leaned in slightly, as she clenched her jaw. The air felt bitter enough to taste, as if that made this subject at hand any less difficult to swallow. "I know exactly what the doctors said, adn I know what prolonging the inevitable looks like. You're not enlightening me with your big medical crusade, so you can take that condescending tone and shove it up your ass." Dallas paused only to scoff, then continued. "Don't stand there acting like i've been ignoring everything these last few years. Like I haven't been the one on the phone at three in the morning, reading every research article ever published, calling ever specialist in a hundered-mile radius. Spare me the guilt trip."

The blonde exhaled hard and reached for her half-open pack of cigarettes. In one quick motion, she lit up and inhaled, the irony of it all not lost on her. Smoke curled around her as she steadied herself, crossing on arm over her chest. Her anger wasn't aimed at Dean, something she had to keep reminding herself. "He wants to rest without constant pain? Fine. But don't expect me to nod and wag my tail like some well-trained golden retriever while you spoon-feed me the reality we all see coming."

Her brother's next words were enough to elicit a humorless laugh. "Write it in Spanish, sign language, hell, hire a skywriter. None of it will make it hurt any less." She took another drag, letting the silence linger for a moment. "You done trying to scare me off with this bullshit guilt trip?"

deanhcrt

"If you want me to stop stating the obvious, then stop treating everything I'm saying like it's the craziest thing you ever heard in your fucking life." Fingers raked through his normally gelled and styled hair, which was now completely mussed up considering how this rollercoaster of a day had gone. A nervous habit, one that he'd been trying to kick for ages with little success. Hell, why did he even try looking presentable when he'd more often than not end a stressful day looking like he'd never seen a comb in his life? "I'm not trying to guilt you." And he wasn't. If anything, he was just trying to get his sister to see reason, to get on the same page as he and Lainey. None of it felt real, frankly, and perhaps that why he was having an easier time accepting it, accepting what needed to happen.

Well, accept was a strong word. Really, he'd just learned to cave to Joseph's wishes much easier than Dallas ever had. This was no exception. "What do you want me to say here?" Dean asked, the edges of his voice softening ever so slightly. He didn't want to fight with his sister about this -- he didn't want to fight at all, and he knew that she more than likely felt the same. A sigh escaped him then, extending a hand and wiggled his fingers to beckon her to let him have a drag of her cigarette.

"Yeah, well, putting up a fight isn't going to make it hurt any less, either. You know how dad is when he makes up his mind." It was as if no one else in the world even existed. Jaw clenched, his eyes flickered downwards, gazing blankly at the floor. "His doctor said that -- a few months, maybe? Less than a year. Said we should start getting his affairs in order. This just -- I don't even know what that means." Or, maybe he was avoiding thinking about it.

#convo; all.#convo; dallas hart.#dallas 001.

andresxtorres

FOR › @deanhcrt LOCATION › dean's house

"Look, dude, I've had enough of your complaints for one night. So we either gotta find you more friends that'll listen to you bitch or we gotta go out to a place where the music is louder than your bitching. And I'm putting my money on the second option working out better for us." Without skipping a beat, AP slumped onto the sofa next to Dean, dramatically huffing out a sigh. Despite the tone of his voice, a mischievous smirk broke onto his features. He'd discovered early on in life how amusing it was to poke at the Hart siblings until one of them inevitably came undone, and it frankly wouldn't be a habit he fancied dropping anytime soon. "So, what d'ya say? Should we do Tipsy or The Canyon tonight? Or Orchard? Should we just open our own club? I can't believe I've never pitched this to you before."

deanhcrt

Dean tossed a harsh glare in his friend's direction. "I'm not bitching. You just have generally terrible ideas, and apparently I'm the only person who's willing to hold you accountable." That was, until AP inevitably roped him into whatever little scheme was on his mind on any given evening. Despite how skilled he liked to think he was in the realm of discipline, the other male had an uncanny way of making all of that go to absolute shit. A sigh leaving his lips, he lifted a hand to anxiously stroke at his stubbled chin. "Seriously? Tipsy? What do I look like, a farmer? And we just went to Canyon last weekend -- scratch that, we just got kicked out of Canyon last weekend, I think we need to rack up some goodwill first." He couldn't help the way his brows quirked ever so slightly at the mention of the Orchard, however, and he lifted his shoulders in a shrug as if to seem incredibly nonchalant. "Orchard could -- that could work." Dean let out a scoff. "You have. Multiple times. Usually when its after last call and no one will give your drunk ass any more shots."

#convo; andres torres.#andres 001.#convo; all.

nathanwalkerx

@deanhcrt

With Izzy at school and Jamie set to open his bar at midday, Nate was making the most of his free time in the gym figuring under false illusion that it might tire him out so he'd sleep later. His daughter had asked about her mom - which was something Izzy did and would continue to always do so, he was sure, yet out of everything that came with raising a girl, that topic always seemed to hit harder for Nate. Therefore physically wearing himself out was just his way of clearing his mind, which temporarily he had succeed in as he left the gym, continuing on his path downtown and towards the coffee shop. Pushing through the doors and eventually placing his order he waited to the side, attention soon shifting to Dean - Dallas’s twin, a label that would forever be stuck for Nate. “You alright?” He offered a smile, making a light gesture towards the other’s attire, “Colour really brings out your eyes.”

deanhcrt

He couldn't help the way his eyes widened upon being addressed by Nate Walker, heart hammering in his chest as he looked up from his work phone too see the older male in all his glory -- and dressed like he was coming from the gym, no doubt. Was this Dean's lucky day, or his worst nightmare? Only time would tell, depending on how this interaction went. "Great. Fine. Peachy. Why, do I not look fine?" Tucking his work phone in his pants pocket, the male let out a soft scoff (mostly to hide and semblance of redness making its way to his cheeks). "Jesus, Walker. Save the compliments for your own team. Before you run dry." He remarked, trying not to stare too long at the sweat glistening his brows. "Let me guess, triple chocolate Frappuccino with extra caramel? That's what you gym bros like to top off your workouts with, right?"

#convo; all.#convo; nate walker.#nate 001.

anisatcrres

TO: @deanhcrt

Anisa's former line of work thought her how to fake it with men. And she was rather good at it, if she said so herself. This sentiment did not extend to Dean Hart. Then again, that had a lot to do with the fact that they grew up pretty much hating each other. Despite being the daughter of a powerful man in Reno, she was a no one. Dean Hart couldn't say the same, and it felt like he made it known every time. Today, however, she could fake it. She had years of practice, even if she distested this man before, she had could play nice today. She gave him a pearly white smile the moment she walked into his office. "Dean -- good to see you." She greeted, her tone sickly sweet. The smile she wore shifted just slightly, "I'm here for your professional intel. I'm looking into building a house."

deanhcrt

Surprised didn't even begin to cover how Dean felt the moment Anisa stepped foot into his office, thick brows betraying the cool exterior he liked to trick himself into believing he maintained (which he most certainly did not) and quirking upwards. "Uh -- hi?" The pleasantries were a bit of a jarring touch, and it took him a moment to compose himself, removing his glasses from their perched position on his nose and placing them down on his desk. "You want to build a house?" He repeated, holding back the obvious retort sitting on the tip of his tongue -- what, like a whore house? Alas, he refrained, always one to remain professional when it came to the family business. Or, at least he tried to. "Um, okay. For personal use, or are you looking into the whole slumlord -- sorry, landlord thing?"

#convo; all.#convo; anisa torres.#anissa 001.#( i am sorry for HIM )

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