( TARON EGERTON + CISMALE ) â Â Have you seen DEAN RILEY ? This THIRTY THREE year old is a STOCK BROKER who resides in MANHATTEN . HE has been living in NYC for FIFTEEN YEARS, and is known to be PROTECTIVE and LOGICAL , but can also be STUBBORN and SHORT TEMPERED, if you cross them. Â People tend to associate them with TAILORED SUITS and CONSTANTLY CHECKING A LIVE FEED OF A SPORTS GAMEâ
Hey guys! So Deans had a bit of a revamp, still the same kinda grouchy guy. But his backstories changed a little! So let me know if youâd like to report or want anything new if we havenât before!
The Basics
Name: Dean Adrian Riley
Birthday: 22nd November, 1987
Age: 33
Height: 1.79m (5â9â)
Hometown: San Antario, Texas
Current Residence: Manhatten, New York
Tattoos: a bear with a forest in it on his inner left bicep
Scars: N/A
The Bio
Dean grew up in San Antario, Texas as the eldest child of Max and Florence Riley. They were quite a traditional couple, with traditional ideas on roles and family positions and values. As the eldest, and a boy, Dean was quite quickly shown how to act to be a man. He was taught about cars, how to fix them, taught handy work around the house, they made sure he did well in school, and taught him that he should grow up and be the bread winner for his wife and children.
When he was nine years old his parents had a set of twins, and while they never ignored him necessarily it definitely pulled some of the pressure and attention off of Dean. By the time he was in highschool he had already been playing ice hockey and got himself into the varsity team his junior year. He realised that his parents may have pushed for it but he really liked math and found an oddly comforting feeling in doing math and calculations where he knew there was an answer for each solution not open to interpretation.
Dean ended up being accepted into NYU on an academic scholarship and graduated with a bachelor of finance. While living in New York he kept playing hockey. Joining a team in a recreational league, and after his degree found a job with a company that let him intern as a stock broker. Stock broking wasnât what he thought he would be as a kid, always assuming heâd be more of an accountant or bookkeeper, but he found that he loved the job and stayed with the company.
While he had been away he always made it a point to go back and see his family whenever he could. Spending time with both his younger brother and sister. He saw the way his parents treated them and while it never made him feel less towards Paris it did make him take a little more interest in their brother. And make sure he knew that if he needed someone Dean was there for him.
Five years ago, his sister moved to New York and stayed with him for about a year. Then Dean was approached by another company offering him a better paid job on Wall Street and it included housing as one of his benefits so Dean moved to Manhatten.
Heâs been working for the same company and living in the same place ever since.
The Extras
Dean can come across a little cold or rough around the edges at first, but once you get to know him heâs warm, funny, caring and protective.
He has a two year old boxer named Ali.
His mother taught him to ballroom dance, and heâs rather good at it.
The gym was a place that Owen frequented quit often. For him, there was something that was relaxing about working out. It was a way for him to get a lot of stress of long shifts at the hospital out of him and he just liked being active, the feeling he got when he was done with a good work out. Never once did he have any troubles at the gym, it was the same one he went to whenever he decided to workout. So as he sat down on the weight machine, he didnât notice the man that was in front of him shouting. It wasnât until the movement of the two bodies that caught his attention and he looked up at the two men, wondering what the hell was even going on. Owen was just about to lean down and grab his phone from the floor to ask what happened when the man in front of him started to sign. It always took him by surprise when people signed to him, especially ones that could hear. Sign language wasnât all that widely known by many people, which Owen had quite a few opinions on if he was being honest. Something he thought should be taught in schools. With a smile on his lips, Owen brought his own hands up. âItâs okay. I donât even know what happened.â Owen admitted with a slight look on his face. âIf I had to guess, he was saying something to me?â From what he could gathered, it seemed likely. âThank you for stepping in. Means a lot.â Owen signed a bit slow for the other, not for sure how much he knew or how easily he would be able to follow along with what Owen was signing.Â
Normally one to make eye contact in conversations Dean really had to concentrate and made sure he was focused in the mans hands. He knew the man was most likely signing slower for him and he appreciated that as he was mostly keeping up. He nodded before siging âHe was saying you used something he was using. But I saw him, and he was no where near it before.â He shook his head and added, âheâs just -â his hands halted for a moment as he realised he didnât know the sign for the word he wanted, his brain started racing until it clicked and instead he spelt it out in sign, âE-N-T-I-T-L-E-Dâ he was going to have to thank Gus. He was definitely a great teacher, and this was the first time Dean had really had a conversation like this not in a classroom. âBut it was no problem. Iâm Dean by the way.â
He didnât know what to say when Dean called him âthe bestâ. He surely wasnât, but hearing something like that⌠it tightened his chest and his confidence both boosted tenfold and shriveled up on the ground. Because hearing such high praise when he had only taught for a year, and from someone so accomplished⌠he shifted in his seat, shaking his head. âI donât make it easy. Iâm just touched when people say nice shit, alright? And itâs my first year and I never expected to have students who⌠care, or want to do nice things for me. I dunno.â He felt like he sounded stupid. Instead he perked up at Deanâs comment about his neighbor. âReally? Thatâs amazing! Youâll be fine- why would you be scared? If you ever forget a word, you can finger-spell it. But I think youâve got the general idea of how conversation signs work. Youâve worked really hard.â He smiled softly. âWell, you tell them that, because I barely got the okay for the first class.â He sighed. âThey donât even hire interpreters for the lectures. Half the time, I just volunteer. Otherwise our Deaf students wouldnât be able to understand. Itâs bullshit.â He shook his head, looking down at the big box of cookies, closing it once Dean took a few. ââŚCoffee?â He asked suddenly, standing up.
âRiiight,â he drew the word out and nodded along, âof course you donât make it easy.â He smiled at the encouraging words, he knew this was his teacher who would most likely always support him, but knowing he was more of a friend it seemed to mean just a little bit more when Gus said that. âItâs stupid they donât, I mean how do you expect people to learn if they canât even fully comprehend? Is there job as a college not to teach people? Sorry, I donât mean to trash talk your work place.â He smiled, âoh god yes please, just black.â
Honestly, listening to Dean hum-and-haw over the thrift shop theyâd just entered brought a broad smile to Parisâ face. Their differences were always obvious, but especially as soon as they entered somewhere like this together. While Paris expelled an excited gasp at the bedazzled pink top, Dean looked as though he could cry from exasperation at any moment. âI mean, maybe not as a whole outfit, but statement pieces are important, Dean!â She plucked the top from the hanger and held it up - it was obviously for a little girl, but fabric was fabric. âLike, one of your boring suits with this as a pocket square, maybe poking out of your sleeves a little? Thatâs cute.â But she put it back, begrudgingly. âIâm getting you something, so give me colors that Iâm allowed to explore. And you canât say black, gray, navy blue, or beige.â
He scowled in confusion, âstatement pieces? Why do my clothes need to talk? I can talk my self.â The confusion even laced his voice before he looked at her and raised his eyebrows at the material she had picked up. âIf you arenât going to take this seriously then you may as well just go.â He huffed, before a smile broke over his face, laughing at his own childish behaviour. âBut those are all the best colours! Okay okay, how about green, or orange. But not like neon colours but darker.â
He could not believe this was happening, he groaned as they walked into a clothing store and he knew for a fact his sister was about to make him try on countless outfits. Dean knew he shouldnât complain, after all heâs the one who invited her yet he found himself groaning as they walked past some racks of clothing. âCome on Paris, this is ridiculous you donât think Iâd actually wear any of this do you?â He looked down at a shirt on a stand and pinched the pink sparkly fabric with a look of disgust, before looking up at the younger sibling. âIâd rather die to be honest with you.â
âDonât go getting any ideas. I need to stop telling people how embarrassed I get from sappy shit. They end up doing it on purpose to watch me go red. But it was very sweet.â He mumbled, looking through his fingers at Dean as the other gave his shoulder a soft squeeze. He shot him a small, shy smile and picked up his own coffee, leaving the box of cookies on the table. âTake however many you want, please. I live alone with limited space and I donât need the extra cookies tempting me.â Gus teased, sitting back in his chair a bit. He picked one of the oatmeal raisin ones up for himself, bending it until it snapped into two and taking a small bite. He tried not to think too much about being called âthe best professor thereâ. That was high praise and imposter syndrome was creeping in quick. âHowâre you doing, anyways? You wonât be my student forever, you know. Wonât see you in deep concentration every Tuesday. Until I convince them to let me do an ASL 2, anyways.â He added with a laugh.
âIdeas? Who me? I think you got the wrong guy.â Dean joked while maintaining a mostly straight face with just the edges of his mouth upturned. âI think you make it too easy for them though.â He flashed a proper smile at the offer of more cookies and grabbed a few more, who was he to say no if Gus insisted. It would be rude really...he nodded as he swallowed some cookie and gave a small shrug, âIâm good. Just been working a lotâ, he ran a hand throuigh his hair with a sigh, he was tired from work. âOh and practicing, I think Iâm ready to try talking to my neighbour. Iâm just a little scared.â He admitted to the other man thinking about how heâd been taking the lessons, but still hadnât initiated the conversation. âIâm sure youâll convince them. Like I said earlier, youâre the best.â
âMainly rock, metal and punk to be honest. I like music that uses real instruments. So bands like The Amity Afflcition, The Color Morale, Bring Me The Horizon, All Time Low and Daugherty.â
The gym was definitely one of Deans happy places. Working an office job with long hours he often found it hard to unwind or let go. Going to the gym for an hour or two gave him the perfect way to release steam. He was finishing up a set of bicep curls when he spotted a large man looking angry. He put the weights down and watched curiously as the man started raising his voice at someone who had sat down on a piece of equipment. The man wasnât even looking at the one shouting and Dean had a funny feeling he knew why. Heâd been studying sign language to talk with his neighbour and felt confident enough to know what was happening. He walked over and stood directly in front of the man yelling. âHey, why donât you back the fuck up man? Calm down.â He stared the man down who started questioning who he thought he was and grabbed Deans, Dean pushed him off as two employees came over to remove the man. He turned to the man on the equipment and waved before gingerly signing, âsorry about him. Heâs an asshole. Are you okay?â Hoping he got the signs right he smiled at the other man.
âI swear⌠this is my third cup of coffee. No matter how long Iâve been here, I miss California in the winters. Itâs been ten years and I still canât get used to the cold.â Jamie shivered just a bit while holding onto the cup of coffee with both hands. Even with gloves on, she was hoping it would warm up her hands. âHow do you even deal with this? I canât count how many layers I have on right now.â @codstartersâ
Looking down at his own coffee he smirked, âI think this is my fourth, but I donât have the weather to blame.â He shrugged, âI like to think you get use to it.â He chuckled before bumping against her shoulder slightly. âYouâre not going to ask for my jacket too are you? I quite like it. You can have my scarf if you want though.â