Relationship With Family: Maria gets along well with her parents who struggle to stay afloat in Cávado. She helps them out the best she can and knows that they work hard for what they have. Family is important to her and she will do anything for them, this extends to the hathaway family, her sisters (All the Vixens except former Adriana Amaro) and the French.
Happiest Memory: Her happiest memory is the time she would spend with Guillaume, & Jérôme. They would do some crazy shit in Porto Velho, before the incident. They are her brothers.
Childhood Trauma: The most traumatic childhood memory for Maria is when she realised how others treated her, that she was scum, because of where she came from. This mostly came from those that had money and power. It followed her throughout life that at first it was hard for her to accept the kindness that came from the French and how they accepted her for the person she was, not where she came from. It helped her find her self-worth.
PHYSICAL:
Height: 5'5.
Weight: 125lbs.
Build: She is more on the lean side, from all the training she does, with soft curves, a small hourglass figure and proud of her ass.
Hair Colour: Brown.
Usual Hair Style: Mostly down.
Eye Colour: Green.
Glasses? Contacts?: Neither.
Style of Dress/Typical Outfit(s): She has different styles depending on the situation. She has all her outfits that she wears at Vixen’s. There are those that she does her training in which is usually workout clothes. The brand she likes is Gymshark. She loves her fashion and keeps up with the trends. Shopping is one of her favourite hobbies outside of dancing.
Typical Style of Shoes: She lives in heels. A whole closet dedicated to them. Obviously they are designer brands. She does have sneakers in here and some sandals.
Jewellery? Tattoos? Piercings?: She has her ears pierced and her belly button. No tattoos. It isn’t good for business and she doesn’t like needles.
Scars: One on her chest where she was shot. She uses makeup to cover it up when she is working.
Unique Mannerisms/Physical Habits: She will chew on the inside of her cheek when she is nervous and try to fidget with anything she can.
Athleticism: She is athletic. It comes with the dancing and all the training she does. Boxing is one of the things, outside of the traditional gym, she likes to do to stay in shape.
Health Problems/Illnesses: Allergic to nuts.
INTELLECT:
Level of Education: She has her high school diploma and she did attend an arts college for her dancing.
Languages Spoken: English, Portuguese & Spanish
Level of Self-Esteem: It’s high. She mostly only has doubts when she’s around Rutherfords or Russians, it’s more her ptsd that plays into that.
Gifts/Talents: She can dance, sing and paint.
Mathematical?: She can do her basic maths that is needed for everyday life.
Makes Decisions Based Mostly On Emotions, or On Logic?: Emotions and she knows it can be her downfall at times.
Life Philosophy: Dance like nobody's watching.
Religious Stance: Catholic.
Cautious or Daring?: A bit of both.
Most Sensitive About/Vulnerable To: Her family being hurt.
Optimist or Pessimist?: A mix.
Extrovert or Introvert?: Extrovert.
RELATIONSHIPS:
Current Relationship Status: Single.
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual.
Past Relationships: None. (she leaves before committing).
Primary Reason For Being Broken Up With: She ghosts them.
Primary Reasons For Breaking Up With People: They are getting too close and she is afraid to commit because of her issues. She doesn’t want to be a burden on others.
Ever Cheated?: No.
Been Cheated On: Who knows.
Level of Sexual Experience: Pretty high.
A Social Person?: Yes.
Most Comfortable Around: Amélie, Guillaume, & Jérôme.
Oldest Friend: For her, Guillaume. It’s not decades, but the first person she truly felt comfortable around and didn’t have to hide anything; except one little white secret.
How Does She Think Others Perceive Her?: That she is well put together and has handled what happened that night in Porto Velho, putting it behind her.
How Do Others Actually Perceive Her?: That they know she hasn’t dealt with it fully, but don’t know the extent of how bad it is.
SECRETS:
Life Goals: To see the end of the Russians and Rutherfords.
Dreams: To finally find peace from that night.
Greatest Fears: Losing those she cares about, especially Guilluame.
Most Ashamed Of: Turning to drugs to cope.
Secret Hobbies: Cross stitching.
Crimes Committed (Was he caught? Charged?): If you count taking drugs as a crime, then yes, and no she hasn’t been charged. If there were issues, she has people who have handled it for her.
DETAILS/QUIRKS:
Night Owl or Early Bird?: Night Owl.
Light or Heavy Sleeper?: Light.
Favourite Animal: Iberian Wolf.
Favourite Foods: Anything spicy.
Least Favourite Food: Anything with nuts since she is allergic to them.
Favourite Book: Anything crime related, true or fictional.
Least Favourite Book: Romance novels.
Favourite Movie: The Godfather.
Least Favourite Movie: The Notebook.
Favourite Song: Strangers in the Night - Frank Sinatra.
Favourite Sport: Football Sl Benfica FC.
Coffee or Tea?: Tea.
Crunchy or Smooth Peanut Butter?: NEITHER!
Type of Car He Drives: BMW M2 - Frozen Portiamo Blue II Metallic.
Lefty or Righty?: Left.
Favourite Color: All shades of blue.
Cusser?: Big time cusser.
Smoker? Drinker? Drug User?: Smoker - No. Drinker - Yes. Drug User - Yes
As she shifted closer to him, he shifted a little closer to her, a teasing smile on her face.
"Just for the drink?" A twinkle in his eyes betrayed he was just being playful, as he was certain she spent every shift being hit on by dozens of men.
"I suppose I'm the fiftieth man to tell you that you look lovely tonight."
There were only a handful of people Maria truly felt at ease around, those who made her feel safe without trying. Sitting beside Lorenzo was one of them.
"I could afford two." Her voice carried a teasing edge, nails brushing lightly across the top of his thigh beneath the table. Plenty had tried their luck with her, but very few had managed to hold her attention.
"Fifty-one, actually." A waitress passed by their table, giving Maria the chance to order her usual drink now that she was off shift. "And the first one I've actually been interested in."
"Sure I did," He said, a slight smile flickering across his lips, "I'm known to do that once in awhile." A teasing smile followed, and he gestured to the seat next to him. "Care to join me?"
The crowded atmosphere of the club made it hard to hear, so he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He was clearly tired, but in good enough spirits. Good enough for being in a French Club, anyway.
"I'll only drink if you do, too."
Lorenzo was a new face, one that felt needed among the steady rotation of the crowd, and it was refreshing. “I’d love to join you.” Maria didn’t have much longer left in her shift.
The Vixen edged a little closer to the Italian, giving them a better chance to hear one another over the noise. When he mentioned a drink, she saw no real reason to turn it down.
“Give me ten more minutes, then I’m all yours for that drink.” Her shift was nearly over.
Lorenzo entered the club, immediately assailed by the music, crowds, and lights. He frowned slightly in distaste at the noise, but stopped short of making a permanent impression of the place so quickly.
While had never truly been a fan of the French, they were a right sight better than the Rutherfords or the Russians. When one of their people had invited him out to experience Vixen, he had grudgingly agreed.
And made plans to meet at Vespucci's directly after with several of his associates.
As he found an empty booth, having been unable to spot the Frenchmen, he made himself comfortable, ordering a drink from one of the roving waitresses.
It's not that he was a prude. He enjoyed half-naked women as much as the next man, and spent more than his fair share of nights shacked up with one or another of them. But the atmosphere itself- loud, in your face noise- was not really his idea of a good time.
Until these people had been to a true Italian wedding, they had not actually seen a good time before. Yes, they could be loud, but that noise wasn't mean to drown out the world. It was meant to feed the soul.
The music faded as the song came to an end, and he threw his arm over the top of the booth, relaxing as he waited to the Frenchman, who for all he knew, may never show.
It had been like any other night. Vixen had its usual crowd, with a few new faces scattered through it, and he had been one she picked out instantly during the final song of her set. Maria had extended the invitation herself, though she hadn’t been entirely certain he would accept.
The Vixen accepted the robe offered to her, slipping it on with practiced ease and tying the sash at her waist. A brief glance in the mirror, adjusting nothing, simply confirming. Then she stepped out, heels measured against the floor as she made her way toward his booth.
"You came." There was a note of surprise in her voice, though the smile that curved along her lips was slow, deliberate. Her gaze dropped briefly to the table before returning to him. "And without a drink? We should fix that."
"I have been in London for several years now and I have not made a trip home to where my parents are from." A beat. "Your company would only add to the experience if it works out that way."
"I will keep that in mind. The offer still stands." Maria enjoyed her dinner with Lorenzo. "I am. There are a few dates that sound interesting. Maybe I'll get yours."
"Better than I initially thought, awkward on some accounts." Nodding her head over to where Gideon was, conversing with those she no longer found herself in the immediate vicinity with on a regular. "And you?"
Where: The Barbican Centre
Who: open @mobscene-starters
"I'm going to need one more of these," Lorenzo said, finishing a shot and holding up another finger.
"May the Lord not curse me with a Russian hag. I doubt drowning my date in the river would be looked upon positively."
As they exited the store, Lorenzo led her to a dark sedan parked nearby, opening the passenger side for her. "I've got just the place in mind," He said, offering her a hand to help her in. "Took me a minute, but I found a good, family owned joint in Little Italy. I've tried more dishes than I'd care to admit, and have yet to find one I disliked."
"Perhaps you can tell me your life story over dinner and wine."
Maria murmured a quiet thank you as he opened the passenger door for her, placing her hand in his to step up into the sedan. Once settled, her first instinct was to pull the seatbelt across her.
“Little Italy.” The destination formed easily in her mind. It wasn’t somewhere she’d had the chance to try yet, though she had a good idea of who tended to linger there. “That’s always a good thing. At least you’re never disappointed.”
“Only if you’ll do the same?” she added, glancing over at him.
"Once you try it," He warned, "It's all you'll want to eat." He gave her another quick smile, paid for the bottle, and accepted the wine bag from the clerk. He offered her an arm, an old formality that was often lost in today's world.
"Shall we? My car's not far, I'm happy to drive, if you'd like. Though, if you listen to some of the women around these parts, that offer alone might make me a serial killer."
“Oh, is that so.” A smirk danced on her lips. “Let’s see if you’re right.” A beat. “Thank you.” He hadn’t been obligated to replace the bottle, especially when the collision had been her fault.
Her gaze dipped to the arm he offered. It had been a while since anyone had bothered with that kind of old-fashioned courtesy, and she wasn’t about to turn it down. After a brief pause, she slipped her arm through his, natural and unhurried.
“Sim,” she started, listening to the rest of what he said before a quiet laugh left her. “Good thing my best friend has my location at all times.” A habit she’d learned not to question.
"Twist my arm," Lorenzo responded with a slight smile. "Although I might insist on dinner. This pairs perfectly with a spaghetti bolognese." He ha a restaurant in mind, and knew the owner well enough, already, to be able to bring in a bottle of his own wine. "I'll try to limit myself to just a glass."
"As for the competition..." He fought a flicker of a smile that tugged at his lips. "The organization I work for has a very... aggressive business model when it comes to overcoming competition. I wouldn't expect our rivals to be around for long."
As they approached the check-out counter, Lorenzo slid his card across to the cashier, offering the bottle to them.
"I hope you're not opposed to Italian?" He asked, glancing toward Maria. "It really is the only way to go."
“Dinner…” Maria let the word linger, considering it. With how intense her training had been lately, a few extra carbs wouldn’t hurt her recovery. “I honestly can’t remember the last time I had spaghetti bolognese.” A faint smirk followed. “And a true gentleman would help a woman finish the bottle,” she added lightly. “It would be a shame to let good wine go to waste.”
Her eyes stayed on him, her tone light, courteous. “I do hope you’re successful with your… competition.” The certainty behind it was subtle, and she had no interest in drawing attention to it.
“I’m not opposed to Italian,” she said after a beat. Then, softer, with a hint of something beneath the words, “I suppose only time will tell.”
