POWER & GLORY.

One, two, three, four — classic Adrian, entertaining himself at the expense of others. Tonight, it’s some bald drunkard, falling asleep in his drink every minute, and the man is counting how long he’s been asleep for before his nose falls straight into his glass, waking him up. Seven seconds is his record — and hell, this is how he spends his nights now. Drinking, playing stupid games with himself in some bar that definitely hasn’t passed its health inspection in ages.

Then, enter, stage right, ghost from his past. Dilan. It’s been months — no, has it been years? — no matter; he’s lost track of time in this little town, and finishing his beer in one swoop, he watches her, eyes trained on the woman. Inevitable, that she approaches the bar; though he isn’t exactly sure if she’s seen him yet, or if she’s ignoring him, willfully.

“If I throw you a stick, will you leave?”

@avelazqucz·

Peyton parked her bike in front of the garage, sliding her helmet upon the handle before she ventured towards the entrance. “Adrian?” she asked the receptionist who knew her by now. After all, if she wasn’t here for her bike or car — she could be found sitting on a flat surface near Adrian while attempting to convince him to entertain her new adventure. Light hues flicked over the expanse of the garage until her eyes fell upon him, a cheshire grin framing delicate features. “D’ya miss me?” she teased as she leaned against the table on her left. 

“I see the panic in your eyes but don’t worry — I’m not going to try to take you away this time. I’m actually here for Bertha. She’s making a weird noise and I need you to check up on her. You know, give her a bit of your special loving. Make her purr for you.” Her brows wiggled, tilting her head to the parking lot where her bike sat.

Blonde, smiling, coquettish tone falling from her lips — it’s only natural that Adrian would immediately identify the customer as Peyton. She grates on his nerves in the best possible way, and that isn’t him being rude. Anyone that didn’t get an immediate fuck you from him is good in his books, and he slides out from the undercarriage, a single brow raising at her flirtatious double entendre.

And before she can say another word, he slides back, choosing to yell from under the car than give her his full attention. “Yeah? You wanna describe the noise for me?” He asks. “Use your words, sweetheart, I know you’ve got plenty rattling around in that blonde head of yours.” As always, Adrian can’t help himself.

He isn’t sure when the shop opens, but Adrian is hardly a man who pays any attention to silly notions such as hours of operation — anything he wants, he demands, and most importantly, gets.

Strolling in, his eyes immediately land on a dark-haired woman, and he strides towards her, hands in pockets. “You’ll do,” he comments. “You do cover-ups?” All business, as usual, nothing out of the ordinary to see here...

[PETER GADIOT] — you see [ADRIÁN VELÁZQUEZ-SCOTT] there? yeah, they’re [THE THRILLSEEKER] and they’ve lived in Havenport for [THREE MONTHS]. [HE] is [FEARLESS] & [DECISIVE], even though most people think they’re [BOORISH] & [UNFRIENDLY].

starter | @havenportstarters·

“Since I’m already here…might as well come by and say hello.”

“Why?” Adrian asks, eyes flitting over to the man. “You got no one else to talk to, buddy?”