This was her kind of party. It had been so long since Brooklyn gave herself the chance to let loose. Always too wrapped up with work, she hardly found the time for this. Dancing was easily one of her favorite past times and it showed as she hit the dance floor continuously with friends.
When someone extended their hand toward her, she looked up at the other with a smile, taking his offer by placing her hand in his. “Of course.” She followed him to a spot where they could dace comfortably and Brooklyn began swaying to the music. “This is so great, isn’t it? What a nice little event!”
“It’s lovely, honestly. Wish we still lived in a time where parties like these were commonplace.” There were too many downsides to living in the past for Rhett to consider it seriously, but the thought is nice.
“I’m Rhett, by the way!” He calls, over the music, over the people around them having a good - he hopes - time.
How long was it now? Since that moment he stepped into the confessional booth and spilled all of his secrets? Did it make him nervous that there was someone out there who knew who he was. What he was capable of. Really CAPABLE of. What he had done. Someone who potentially ruin him? No, it didn’t. It made him feel something though. Excitement, MAYBE? Ok. He nodded and made his way to the bar to fetch his drink. Wow, you could actually be a gentleman when you wanted to. Surprised? You shouldn’t be. He returned moments later with two whiskeys, one for the priest and one for himself. ❝ Well, I had to come so no surprise there. What it is surprising is that you’re here. ❞ He had a feeling that the explanation behind it would be an entertaining one. ❝ So care to share, father? What brings you to Cobra territory?❞
“Civilians are invited to this party, you know.” His fingers catch Elias’ for a moment as he takes the glass, pretending he’s far more innocent than he actually is.
But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? The big bad wolf and the good Catholic boy. Something of a fantasy for the both of them, at this point.
“Why don’t you tell me why you think I’m here, and we’ll go from there, hm?”
Well, now this was interesting. Elias wondered what he was doing here. What a priest would be doing at a Cobras event? all types of answers came to mind, one of them being that he was involved in gang activity. A hilarious sort of thing. Rhett seemed happy to see him though, judging by the smile that painted his face and how quickly he closed the gap between them. If anyone should be weary of him and his intentions, it was Rhett Bishop. After all, Elias has confessed things to him that would give grown men nightmares. Instead of scaring him away he had managed to make him interested. In turn, Elias was curious about him. How his mind worked. What drove that morbid fascination of his. More importantly, he wanted to know how far he would take it. If he would be satisfied remaining a simple spectator or get his hands dirty. By the looks of it, Rhett’s hands were not as clean as he thought. ❝ Of course. What’s your poison?❞
“Mm, good question...” He sucks a breath in through his teeth, considering, “Whiskey neat, please and thank you?” He plays at somewhere close to charming, smiling at Elias. It suits him, but not as well as it suits Elias.
He’d almost missed this, them dancing around each other, curious and prodding, but never moving in for the kill. For as much as Elias was wanting to see how his brain worked, he was wanting to peek inside Elias’. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here, should I? Though I’m surprised you found me so fast. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a homing beacon for me hidden somewhere.”
“Thanks,” the blonde beauty accepted her drink. “In Valdez?” This was the event of the month, perhaps the whole year in their small town, because finally there was a truce between two gangs. “No, I want to be here, plus, we have to be here, don’t we, Rhett?” Nika was never the one who loved to be ordered, yet she was a part of a gang - funny. “And it isn’t so bad, besides I love the whole Gatsby thing, don’t you?”
She had a point - nothing terribly interesting happened without a body count, so events like this were diamonds in the rough.
“That’s what they tell me, yeah.” It’s not that much of a hardship to have to come, sure, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t expecting all hell to break loose before the night is over. At this point, it’s just a matter of who throws the first punch.
“The Great Gatsby was one of my favourite books growing up, actually. I could go on about Nick Carraway being queer-coded for a while, if you’d let me, but I think that might bore ya to tears. I’m sure you’d rather dance.”
Claire wasn’t necessarily looking to start anything. She had enough going on in her life as is, what with her crush rejecting her and her boyfriend coming back from the dead in a massive scandal of lies and deception. But upon arriving at the party, she began to do as habit did; she glanced at the attractive men in the room because she could, her raise in rank making her feel it that much more. Getting approached didn’t even bother her one bit. “Are you sure?” Claire asks teasingly as she’s already extended her hand to place it in Rhett’s, a fellow Cobra, “I may not be the devil, but I’m pretty damn close to it. Good boys like yourself usually scurry in the other direction.”
It’s far from the first time someone has called Rhett a good boy. It’s far from the last time someone will, either. He gets it often - good boy, catholic boy, good catholic boy, the works.
“Haven’t you heard of dancing with the devil?” He’s not intimidated, despite the fact that he’s pretty sure she wants him to be. It’s a celebration of peace, and even if it wasn’t, they’re on the same side.
“Plus, you can’t be for sure that I’m a good boy just based on a sweater alone.” In reference to the cardigan he was wearing, of course. He guides her backwards into the unofficial dance floor, moving through the crowd as best he can.
there’s a slight lilt in his shoulders coupled with an equal subtle shake of his head with rhett’s response. “you could say or that…” his voice trails a moment, “or it’ll make it more fun when I continuously win.” lips curl into a mischievous grin. cameron gives another shuffle to the cards as he eyes his opponent. “let’s uh…we’ll make it players choice. what are you up for? blackjack? poker? go fish?” a joke. “we could play my own game too.”
If they’re going player’s choice, shouldn’t it be Cameron who chooses? Considering he thinks he’s going to be playing Rhett, after all.
Granted, he still might, but at least Rhett’s aware it’s going to be happening, in that case.
“Your own game?” He queries, because that’s what’s expected of him. “Do tell.”
The blonde was notoriously late for the party, that whole let’s-pretend- we’ll-play-together thing, because seriously, who even thinks that peace treaty would and could last? When she had arrived, everyone was already there, and Nika, as always, came solo, because you never knew when your next billionaire could be.
“Oh, Rhett, darling,” the blonde beauty smiled upon seeing another Cobra, “before we hit the dance floor, get a girl a drink, a gin&tonic?”
“Of course, Miss Nika.” He’s always willing to oblige a beautiful woman, especially one with a request so easy to fulfill.
It’s easy enough to find the bar, getting Nika’s request gin and tonic as well as two fingers of scotch for himself, returning to her side after only a few minutes. “Y’know, I thought perhaps you’d found something better to do with your time than attend this...” He takes a moment, looking around the party, trying to come with a better word than shitshow, “celebration.”
It wouldn’t be a party without dancing, of course. That was an unwritten rule somewhere. Groups of not-exactly-sober people always had to dance.
So it’s no surprise when Rhett scans the crowd for someone who looks even halfway interested, extending a hand to them, all Southern charm and bad decisions just waiting to happen.
“Would you care to share this dance?” It isn’t quite a slow song, but it’s close enough to count.
there certainly is a sense of electricity in the air. whether it be from the looming tension or just a genuine good time, the night is still far too young to call it. either way its a feeling a young man such as he thrives upon. despite being a ways away from the tables, there’s a full deck of cards in his hands. don’t ask how he got them. 52 cards. all nearly expertly and continuously shuffled by the curly haired male as he walks around in search of a target. it’s just as he passes by someone walking in the opposite direction that he decides. “hey!” cameron greets, having now walked a few paces backwards to catch their eye. his head tilts back just slightly so he’d have a better view from beneath his awkwardly placed fedora. “y’wanna play a little game?” the question is coupled with a small shake of the deck. “I’ll even let you win”
Attention easily caught by the boy who’d called to him, Rhett stops in his pursuit of a decent drink, pausing to hear out Cameron’s pitch.
“Doesn’t it ruin the fun if you let me win?”
Far be it for Rhett to deny a pretty boy anything, however. “What game are you thinking?” He knows better than to think anyone at this party is anywhere close to trustworthy, but perhaps he can spin this in his favour.
❛ —– HEY THERE , ❜ a grin across perfectly poised lips , her voice echoing over the crowd she finds one person to pinpoint , one to call over to the craps table she’d found rather lucky that night ❛ you’re cute , wanna do a girl a favor and kiss these dice for me ? i may need the good luck and if i win i’ll give you a small cut ❜
He wasn’t against gambling, per se. Greed, sin, sure, all that, but gambling was interesting. Watching people for their tells, for their superstitions, their reactions. Rhett could easily have sat there all night, observing silently.
Until, of course, he’s drawn from his reverie by a voice, a finger pointed his way, calling him in.
Cheeks tinting red, Rhett held his hand out for the dice. “If you’re sure it’ll help, miss.”
Girls twirled by the piano. Elias smoothed back his hairline (still wet) and took a seat at the bar without blinking too hard. When the third fedora-sporting pin-striped fucker edged past his elbow to place an order, he sighed through his nose. ❝ Hey, bartender, ❞ he said, holding up two fingers. ❝ You gonna see to me any time soon? ❞
There we go. Glass of Guinness, little frosty shot-glass of cold Bailey’s and Jameson. He could enjoy an Irish Car Bomb without the need of being Irish. Try something different, is all. Distract his mouth with out-of-the-ordinary so he wouldn’t think about all the lithe little warm ones that wouldn’t fit in a pint glass. He was starting to get twitchy and he tried to focus on something else other than stabbing someone in the stomach. He spun the shot, idly, on the counter. Little fingerprints where his thumb and index had gone spattered the rim until the condensation dripped. Elias looked at the door, at the clock above it, at the dark-haired girl by the piano. With more than a hint of a frown, he dropped the liquor into the stout and watched it bleed. Gotta drink it quick after you’ve mixed it in, and he was still wiping the line of cream off his mouth when he saw him. Tall, slim, light hair, fair complexion. No clerical collar though. Drink in hand he approached him. Valdez was such a small place, wasn’t it? ❝ Father Bishop? Long time no see.❞
The Great Gatsby had always had a soft spot in Rhett’s heart, what with Nick Carraway being a queer icon and all, so it hadn’t been a real struggle to get him to come to the party. As if he’d had any choice in the matter whether he’d wanted to go or not. Be there or be dead, he’d heard someone calling the invitation.
His outfit is directly inspired by the movie - the more recent one, with Spiderman in it - green cardigan rich and dark against crisp white button-up. If there was anything seminary had taught him, it was how to make sure a white button-up stayed stark white and freshly ironed.
He’s only just arrived, still getting his bearings, when a familiar voice calls his name.
“Ah, Elias!”
He grins at the man, stepping closer to account for the din of the party all around them. “Been a while, definitely. Get me a drink?”
⋆ ◦ ° ☾ daniel sharman + cis male + he/him/his — have you seen rhett bishop? he sure has been hanging out at the nondenominational church a lot recently. he is a twenty-nine year old known as the erudite, and he currently works for the cobras as an arms dealer, which he’s been doing for a year and a half. a pansexual scorpio, he is practical + benevolent, as well as hedonistic + morbid. rosary beads clutched in your first, the smell of paint varnish, broken spines on half-finished books. × tyler. twenty-three. they/their/theirs. est. ×
tl;dr: a part-time priest with a passion for art, violence, guns, and books, in that order.
WHO IS HE ?
AFFILIATION cobras
POSITION arms dealer / biggest fan
ACTIVE one and a half years
GENDER cis male
PRONOUNS he/him
SEXUALITY grayromantic pansexual
BIRTHDAY october 27th, 1989
HOMETOWN baton rouge, louisiana
LANGUAGES english, german, french, spanish
ACCENT + INTENSITY southern, strong
BLOOD TYPE o-negative
DOMINANT HAND right
HEALTH wears glasses (farsighted)
NEURODIVERGENCE(S) bipolar disorder
JUNG TYPE estj
MORAL ALIGNMENT chaotic good
APPROACHABILITY medium
HOUSE ravenclaw
ZODIAC scorpio
VICE lust
VIRTUE diligence
DOM/SUB dom
TOP/BOTTOM/VERSE verse
HOW DID WE GET HERE ?
-a real life southern gentleman, rhett is born and bred in baton rouge, louisiana.
-considered a miracle baby, rhett was born to older parents - who had long since given up hope of achieving the three children they desired - with an older sister nearly in high school.
-the miracle baby moniker stuck with him, as rhett was always an exceptionally bright child, picking up books early and not putting them down since.
-raised purely and utterly catholic. his mother a teacher at the catholic school in town, his father heavily involved with the church, sister the head of their youth group. he himself was an altar boy growing up.
-he graduated highschool at the age of fifteen, going into college right away. currently he has three degrees, and is working on his fourth, always one to love learning new things.
-once he’d graduated from college for the first time, rhett was nineteen and in need of some purpose in his life, so he joined the military. he did one tour in iraq, and is currently a part of the army reserves, but it wasn’t something he saw himself doing forever.
-coming back to louisiana after his time in the military, this was around the time that rhett’s father was ill, and the man urged rhett to return to their catholic roots, wanting his son to go into seminary.
-and so, to fulfill his father’s dying wish, rhett did. he became an ordained priest by the age of twenty-seven, and was sent to valdez, colorado.
-since the job here was only part time, rhett turned to his other passion to fill the gaps of his life - art. he got involved with the local museum, as well as the art restoration community.
-after hearing confessional after confessional from the members of both gangs, rhett couldn’t help but feel a little excited by the violent nature of the gangs, admiring their strength and their staunch attitudes towards their causes. he had to get involved.
-he had no real interest in being on the front lines, much preferring to be behind the scenes, and so he joined the cobras, providing them weapons from behind the scenes. the museum provided a perfect cover for receiving shipments amongst the art and restoration materials he was already receiving, and the church was a perfect cover to meet with the cobras without attracting attention.
THINGS WORTH KNOWING !
-rhett is currently the priest of the nondenominational church, but his responsibilities are more limited due to the, well, nondenominational nature of the church, so this is mostly a part time job. he is on call for confessions, as well as performing mass on sundays.
-he is also heavily involved in the museum (i want to say he’s the curator but i dont want to be That Guy)
-although he has his issues - regret of a life misspent, regret of an inability to stay celibate, regret of a lack of unshakable belief, regret of sin after sin after sin at the hands of the cobras - rhett remains the good catholic boy at heart.
-he and his sister were both named for their mother’s love of gone with the wind, but rhett absolutely h a t e s it whenever someone makes a reference based upon his name.
-rhett has a dog, a rottweiler mix named apollo that he is extremely fond of.
-has a real fascination with the macabre, but has never really acted upon his more violent and bloody thoughts, outside of the line of duty.
-has a degree in history, as well as one in art history, on top of the master of divinity he received from seminary. he is also currently studying for a psychology degree.
-he threw himself wholeheartedly into learning more about different kinds of weapons in order to best serve the cobras, and although he is still learning, he is fairly knowledgeable.
-he is also a pretty decent shot, spending at least one day a week at the shooting range, as well as his weekend training for the reserves.
-his ouroboros tattoo is behind his ear, just barely peeking out from underneath curly hair.
-is starting to dabble in art forgery, just to see if he’s capable of it.
-has emt training a little bit, knows how to patch wounds, do cpr, the basics.
PEOPLE HE KNOWS !
-sponsor : someone had to get this boy into the cobras. likely someone who came to confessional at the catholic church, who he would have asked about becoming a member of the cobras. 0/1
-muses : the man is an artist, for christ’s sake. the muses are often those who can weave a pretty story of violent acts they committed, or at the very least someone who doesn’t mind being sketched with a halo. 0/?
-more to come, probably
