Discover Top Posts Tagged with #m: interaction

open to: all (@chqstarter) || location: outside of city hall || timeframe: mid-late afternoon

it was a bad habit and he knew it, but as he hurriedly made his way down the hall, a lunch box toted in one hand, the other was the culprit that patting his pants pocket for reassurance that his pack of cigarettes were where they should be. this week had been particularly intense; full of back-to-back meetings with this break away for lunch being the first time he was free all week long. he would be damned if that didn't mean walking to sit on a public bench and have a quick smoke break before eating. typically he wouldn't bother with bringing the little vice to work with him, but he had been on edge this week. too many administrative mishaps occurring the last few weeks, causing back-up and high stress in his office. spacing himself away from the city hall building reasonably well, making sure he was out of distance from their tobacco-free policy, he made a grab for the soft box in his pocket.

taking no time before one was in his mouth and lit, he gave a long drag. sighing almost happily as he exhaled for what felt to be the first time in days. "man, I really gotta give this up," he complained to himself, knowing full and well how bad it was for his health. not caring enough to make him put it out just yet, he paced the area of the bench for what he thought was just a few moments, getting in a few extra steps while burning off some lingering pressure from work. eventually, when he was flicking out the last of the cigarette, he glanced to the bench, almost jumping as he noticed it was occupied now. how long had he been checked out for? how long had they been sitting there? "i'm sorry, how rude of me, i didn't actually realize anyone else was over here." with a small breath he moved to sit on the opposite side of the bench, not thinking anything of it as he dug into his lunch box. "what brings you downtown today?" he questioned, giving a side-glace to his company.

#chq;starters #m: interaction #( finally getting max out on the dash oops )#( if you want a closed starter feel free to lmk! )

max x leila ( @ofwishfulthinking) | ambrosia lounge | late evening

Darkness finally blanketing the city of Denver, Max flipped on his headlights as he drove down to the Lakeridge District. Between the high stress at work, a sick fish that is being nursed to health in a secondary tank away from his other fish, and the fact that he craved intimacy in any manner he could get it, Max headed to the Ambrosia Lounge. At first, it was harmless fun, but now it was a dark routine -- almost like it's needed in some variation for him to keep his head above water. Originally he only visited on occasion, enjoying the feel of getting out on the town again, but in a different sphere. Now, though? Now it was habitual. Now it was written off into his schedule for the weekend, at least once every weekend. It was just to blow off steam, but now he depended on it. It was the only real interaction he had through the week, even if he was paying for it and considered a patron, he craved the little touches of intimacy and conversation he could find with the girls at the lounge. On top of it all, they had real stories -- they weren't young hopefuls that hadn't experienced the real world; they were young women who have seen what the world had to offer; and he liked that.

Naivety wasn't a trait he looked for in a person; it was cute on occasion -- but definitely, not something he could put up with on a constant basis. Thus, he found himself sticking to the shadows. Naturally, though, dodging the limelight in Denver also meant he was hiding something; in particular where his funds for all this were coming from. Shaking that thought from his head, salt and pepper brown locks falling a little from their morning style, he parked. With a quiet grunt, he got out of his car, pulling his jacket closer against him as he shut the door and locked the car behind him. Not wasting any time he headed into the building, nodding at the bouncer as he entered. Making his familiar way through the lounge, he first went to the bar, requesting whiskey dry. Thumbs tapping against the top of the bar, he waited patiently, tipping the girl as she filled his glass and passed it to him. Before even taking a drink, he moved to the back to request his personal favorite dancer, "Leila, please." Was all he said as he moved to take a sip of the drink in his hand.

#max x leila #m: interaction #( finally!!!!! )

max x banks ( @banksrainicr) | the marketplace | early afternoon

Craving a home-cooked meal, but not being the best at making them happen -- the marketplace was the next best option. This adventure, on this particular day, he wasn't willing to tackle on his own. He'd been caught up in work all week, phone absolutely dry with not a single text checking in on him, and his social craving was through the roof. As he mentally ran through a few options, he ended up deciding on inviting someone out with him for his plans -- wanting to cover their meal and have an actual conversation, not debates and tension. Scrolling through his contacts, he landed on Banks -- and quickly realized just how long it had been since they had met up in any capacity. With that, he leaned up on the couch, and fingers slid across his phone screen, "Marketplace to catch up? My treat. Short notice, but I'm headed there now."

Without waiting for a response, Max made his way through his home, grabbing a flannel jacket and pulling it on over his shirt and jeans before making his way out to his car. His full hope was that him and Banks would be able to catch up over food -- see how Banks was doing and adjusting to being back in the world rather than behind bars. With as little as he knew about the kid, the one thing he got was the way it felt to let life slip out from under you and crumble at your feet. Having his own world fall apart when he was about Banks' age made him feel some sort of affinity for the kid. He wanted to help him out in some way, make his life a little less hard; even if he could only do so in a fraction of ways. The drive across town to The Marketplace was easy and familiar; he frequented Lakeridge as it was anyway, so of course he'd pick a place in his favorite neck of the woods. As he parked in the lot outside of the restaurant, he unbuckled his seatbelt and sat for a moment, scrolling through his phone again to check for a response from Banks.