seen from China
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seen from Türkiye
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seen from Germany
Two Halves of a Whole Crazy || CLOSED ||
@huntersxhunted
“Hey, I’ve seen you before. You’re that girl that picked up that severed finger after that car crash that one night, aren’t you? You know, I was eyeballing that finger also, but finders keepers and all that. I’m Gray, by the way.” The gamer introduced with a small bow.
Electronic dance music filled the air of the packed club as Desmond stood around laughing with a group of people, drink in hand. His body swayed lightly as he spoke with loud hand gestures, his laugh falling into the loud noise. That night his new vampire friend, Hector, wasn’t around, so he found himself trying to fill his time with strangers and booze. His fingers brushed along the cheek of a pretty girl he was flirting with that he planned to go home with that night. He was about to lean in to say something in her ear when he felt his body pushed back, head flying up to see who or what had collided with him. “Oi, watch where yer fuckin’ going, mate.” He says in an annoyed voice over the music.
“ dude. gray. grayson --- we’re --- okay, right? like, last night didn’t mess up our awesome vibe or anything, yeah? ”
@graymonroe
it’s not exactly a rule that you can’t spend time at your place of work outside of your busy shifts and whatnot --- it’s just that most people don’t exactly want to linger in the greasy shadow of the diner if they’re not being paid. will, though, has other reasons to turn up at night when he’s not scheduled beyond that of food well outside his diet plan, and those are definitely his OWN business, no one else’s. “ hey, grayson ----- ” will’s certainly not demonstrating prime patron behavior at the moment, shoes propped up on the seat of chair across from him as he lounges a bit obnoxiously at the table, thoroughly amused smirk playing at lips. he’d even taken the trouble to seat himself well within gray’s section of tables because fuck rachel and her peppiness and endless gossip. he’s not HERE to admire rachel’s impressive winged eyeliner anyway. “ ---- bit slow on the service here, i’d say. or is that because it’s me? ”
@graymonroe
“ dude, what’re you doing? you know i don’t mind waiting your tables for a minute, but your regular’s being insistent on getting the ‘pretty one’ to wait on her. ”
@graymonroe
FUCK. will’s luck with catching the metro train is about as good as the rest of his life, which is to say, not very good at all. he’s tried the damn app and the schedules printed into little neat pamphlets and all that shit, but no; public transport just really fucking hates him and apparently today is to be no different. his sneakers meet the station’s grimy tile floor just in time to see the train whooshes away into the darkness. “ fuck. ” it’s said out-loud this time, spat out to lie with the dirt that stains the grout. luckily, there’s no one around to send him dirty looks. he does send a dirty glare down at his leg, however, as if by sheer frustration he can punish it for slowing him down AND make it stop throbbing in this godforsaken damp weather. unsurprisingly, his leg doesn’t listen. if anything, it decides to ache a little more. go figure.
@graymonroe
Isaac kept his head low as he ducked into the doorway of the familiar establishment. He’d been avoiding coming to the gamble since he’d been back, unsure who in the town had run into Kohl while he was in control. Now, however, when Isaac was resorting to stealing in order to survive, he felt it might be worth finding Gray, and pray for the best. Best case scenario, he hadn’t met Kohl, and he’d just have lost some trust for disappearing for 3 weeks, worst case... well Isaac didn’t want to think about it. With his hood up, he pushed past a few people, carefully watching the people around him. He didn’t know who would recognize him at this point. Approaching the bar, he glanced up at the bartender. “Is Gray around?” He asked quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets, keeping his voice low so as to not attract too much attention to himself.
@xxigray
he knocks on the door of 3.201, chinese take out swinging in his other hand because, hey, he’s a good house guest and doesn’t trust the pizza brandon says he keeps in the fridge. will had been aiming to turn up at brandon’s apartment at some time after the guy ambled home after work, but apparently given the no reply and the resistance of the doorknob against his hand, he hadn’t quite dragged his feet enough. the key is surprisingly where brandon had promised it to be, and will lets himself in and tries not to feel too bad about it. it doesn’t help that he promptly trips over shoes barely half a step in over the threshold, nearly dumping chinese takeout across the floor. luckily, his reflexes haven’t forsaken himself yet, and he weaves his way toward the kitchen.
he’s only just got the ( unscathed ) takeout containers out of their bag when he hears footsteps, gaze flicking upward. “ hey man. ”
@brandonpls
