Intro for two of the characters from my solo Apocalypse World game 👀
Juan Domingo Graves had a hard time looking himself directly in the eyes. He could look at his immaculate goatee, of course, and he needed to each morning as he carefully groomed and trimmed it. He could analyze every dark circle and line that had appeared over the years, as he slowly looked more and more like a father he never cared for. And he could certainly look behind him at the fawning whore cloying for his attention from his bed. But eye contact, for J.D, that was asking too much.
"Mr. Graves," Valentine called, voice sickly sweet and lodged somewhere between effete and masculine. "One more time, come on." They tugged on his silk robe, an exaggerated pout on their lips. They had a peculiar look to them, tan skin peppered with thicker hair than you'd expect from a woman, upper lip grown out into something resembling a teenager's first mustache, and a body fitting of a supermodel, lithe and waifish. In the mirror behind him, they were tastefully draped in blankets, with a silver chain around their neck holding a dangling blue metallic charm. It was the perfect matching accoutrement for this glorified hotel room he lived in- all fake luxury, scuffed bronze fittings and faux velvet curtains draped over the large windows that overlooked Jax. The carpet was stained, and the bed's satin-feel sheets were pilled and threadbare.
"Daddy's not in the mood," J.D muttered half heartedly. Two times in a day was already pushing it, but he didn't want to say that. "Gimme a minute, I'll come cuddle, I just-"
"Mhmmm, okay," Val whined, turning over onto their back and kicking their legs in the air. Their head was hanging back over the end of the bed, their watching him keenly.
"I'm not that old. I'm 35." J.D pinched his cheek, stretching out his skin a little further than he'd like. He had a deep groove running from his nose down to his chin, god, it was deep. "I've got my whole life ahead of me. And I'm powerful. I'm a businessman."
Valentine kicked their legs in boredom, staring at his less-than-impressive package. "You're really powerful daddy," they repeated, trying not to let the boredom overtake their fawning whore facade. "And rich."
"Rich. Yeah. J.D, you're rich as fuck." Maybe if he said it enough, the debts he owed would magically disappear. "That Chance- you can tell how jealous he is, right? Right Val? When he talks to me, you can really hear how jealous he is. That's why he's always on my back."
"I bet his dick is gross."
"Yeah. Totally."
Valentine reached out a hand for J.D's. It was exhausting, dealing with this man 24/7. Barely worth the money. But it was hard not to have a sort of fondness for the guy, after seeing him in what were presumably his darkest moments. God help him if they weren't. "Come to bed. Stop staring."
"I'm talking myself up, Val," J.D muttered, fixated on his wrinkles. "It's an important part of the day when you're an entrepreneur. You've gotta set aside time to uh... manifest your dreams."
"Come to bed."
J.D finally listened, flopping down next to Val in bed with a shuddering sigh. His hairy chest stank of sweat. "I don't know what I'd do without you, my little Valentine."
"You'd probably shoot yourself," they volunteered, snuggling in close under his arm. "We can't have that." Though the comment was rooted in mirbid humour, it masked a twang of genuine affection- what would this pathetic little man do without his plaything? Like they'd adopted a sick cat off the streets, they'd developed a fondness for this man far out of proportion with his meager charms.
J.D chuckled. "There are too many plans in motion for that." Plans- hopes, maybe, attempts to make moves the way his father did. A true ruthless business-owner like him would never have gotten into this much debt. He'd be the one accumulating debtors. If it was even still possible, J.D was going to become the kind of son who would make his father proud.
