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the fact that rowan barrett has worked in lexington for about a decade now-- it meant he knew every face that already walked those halls or he would get to know. What he didn't know though is that dorian poole was... a book person? rowan is a regular at arcadia-- specially the bookstore. but it shouldn't come to a surprise that dorian reads book-- but it slightly did come to a surprise for rowan.
"well, well, well look what the cat dragged in" rowan says as he's in front of dorian, getting his attention by passing behind the shelves while not breaking eye cobtact with dorian.
rowan snorts, stopping and lean over the shelves, "since when do you come here man? and why am i just finding out when you know i come in here on the regular?"
rowan playfully narrows his eyes "or are you here to impress a woman who's interested in books?"
it's not like rowan himself had experience in that department, it was the opposite, he often found himself having past experiences with a few women who weren't actually fond of books-- they were fond of him, but they played it off as they were. so, guess you can say rowan has a meter for these sort of things now. a gatekeeper for his interests outside of his career, if you will.
aurora had found herself at arcardia roosevelt, needing to pick up a new book to add to her slowly building collection. she had never considered herself a hardcore reader, but recently was becoming one thanks to her grandmother. she didn't know how it exactly happened but one thing lead to another and she was now the youngest of a montly bookclub - by a few good decades. it was something to look forward to, an innocent hobby that allowed her to spend time with her grandma and her closest friends. the next on the list was a historical fiction romance, an older pick that her nonna couldn't wait to sink her teeth into.
the nurse was picking up two copies for them, eyes scanning through the historical fiction section of the store. jesus, there so many books here....it was totally overwhelming. "what? don't tell me you're allergic to fun and wanting to get some trinkets while picking up your next read? i think i might have seen some mystery keychain things overthere. you gotta bring in the crowds somehow..."
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the head of department needed more hobbies and reading seemed like a good one amongst the exercise, drinking and the smoking she'd recently picked back up after her wife had left her. clarissa had been browsing interrupted, loving the smell of the printed pages, the coffee smell drifting in as her shoes dragged across the carpet until someone interrupted her train of thought. "wait, so are you criticising a place that actually has physical media? they have to compete with audiobooks and kindle or whatever fucking thing mimics a book nowadays and as for the figurines... swear i've seen one that looks like me and-" she turned to the other. "-also, one that looks like you, i think. so relatable of marketing." she sighed out aggressively and shook her head. it was a shame physical media was dying out but when you could get everything digitally and for free, the businesses had the change tactics. "i mean, what are you looking for exactly or do you only buy books from authors you've heard about?"
maternal information : maya poole, deceaded at age 27.
paternal information : keith quinn, lives on the upper east side, married once, currently 55, works as a private md.
extended familial information : has two younger siblings, both close in age to him from keith & his step-mother talia. his mother had several siblings, but his father is an only child.
child(ren) information : n/a
sexuality : heterosexual
relationship status : it's complicated
languages spoken : english, asl, spanish.
distinguishing marks : a long faded scar along his left thigh from a childhood sports injury.
faceclaim : cody chri.stian
dorian got his name from the class his parents met in in college -- a class literature class, from the picture of dorian gray. it was the book they were assigned to read, and given that he was born on halloween his mother thought it fitting to name him after a gothic literature character. his mother filled his head with stories from the time he was a child. all maya wanted to do was be a writer. she never got the opportunity, though. she had been writing down in her journals since she was young, every thought she had in her head and the stories she had half come up with, and bits and pieces of her thoughts. it's the one memory -- lots of memories, technically -- that dorian still has of his mother.
when maya passed, dorian naturally expected he would live with one of his aunts or uncles, stay in maine and be with the family. but it all came crashing down when even at five years old he knew that everything was different. because the air seemed to still the day he met his father.
dorian was swept from his home in maine and brought to the bustling city of manhattan. he had no idea what was going on. just that he was with family he had never met. this man he had heard about from his mother's stories and some more people he didn't know. a new mother, and siblings he had to get to know too.
of course, being five he had time to get to know everything, and he begged to spend summers back in maine and got his wish for a while. he spent a lot of breaks from school back with his family in maine. the summers allowed him to reset and get back into a normal groove before heading back into the city and being in the private schools that his father had forced him into.
even as a young kid, dorian felt like he didn't belong. he was always feeling as though he needed to live up to the expectations that his father set for him. as much as he wanted to do everything he felt like he couldn't keep up with the pressure. even when he exceeded expectations his dad didn't seem to give him the attention that was expected.
living up to the expectations set for him, dorian went to medican school and did everything in his power to best his father's standards. he might be the oldest sibling, but he always feels like he's the one left out of the crowd, a bit of the black sleep of the family -- but moreso in his father's eyes than anyone elses. however, that's probably because his father seems to do that with everyone, putting his career first.
reality is, dorian just wanted to be a writer, but now at this point he would never admit that out loud. he spent hours writing things down like his mother had. writing things in the margins of his mother's notebooks. he even went so far as to dual major in college originally, pre-med and english. pre-med to appease his father, and english for himself.
while he was in med school, dorian was writing like crazy and made connections with other authors. he eventually found a way to make things work and published a series of short stories, based on both his own and his mother's story ideas. of course, he did it under a pseudonym because he didn't need his father up in his business commenting about everything and knowing all of his own details. it was the one bright spot in his otherwise hectic life.
he still publishes short stories under the pseudonym, but you will never find it. at least, he truly believes no one would ever find it. because he's done a lot of work to separate himself from that work.
he's often quick to anger, a temper he gets from his father. but he tends to keep it all bottled inside, too. even with his busy work schedule, he still manages to write a lot with his free time. again, a side of him that he keeps to himself for the most part.
here's the secret, dorian doesn't want to be a doctor but he would never say it out loud. and he is one of the best up and coming ortho surgeons in his field. he truly is good at what he does. he simply just has other passions that he would rather be doing. it's just one of those things, where he feels like he needs to do this rather than what he actually loves. so he settled, and continues to overachieve.
does everything he can for his patients, and often finds himself overworked, but never under pressure. he's the kind of person who might snap at something one second, but be totally fine in another moment because he just needed to let off some steam.
still often goes to maine when he has the time to spend time with his mother's family. it's the one part of his life he never feels like he has to separate from. his apartment is minimalist in some ways, but cluttered in others. he's got books and papers and some mementos from his time in maine scattered through everything.
not talkative, but more observing than most. likely acts as if he knows nothing but knows just about everything if you mentioned it once. and has a mental note list of things running in his head too.
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her brow quirked, just slightly, at public relations. it wasnāt judgment ā not exactly. more like a quiet curiosity layered with the subtle tension of someone whoād spent too long stitching chaos back together to fully trust the people whose job it was to spin it. but she didnāt flinch away. didnāt pull back. fallon didnāt talk like someone whoād never seen the inside of a trauma ward ā not literally, maybe, but close enough. there was a weight to her words. an edge dulled not from softness, but from sheer exhaustion. she knew the language. āyouāre not wrong,ā delaney said after a moment, tapping the rim of her glass against the wood like it was second nature. āthey drink water. protein shakes. whatever keeps their jawlines tight and their hero complexes intact.ā her tone wasnāt bitter, just dry. clinical. tired in a way that went marrow-deep. she leaned back a bit, letting her head tilt toward the worn-out leather of the booth behind her. the ceiling fan above them spun lazily, not doing much of anything except reminding her she was still alive enough to be annoyed by it. āadmin,ā she repeated, then gave fallon a look ā not quite impressed, but something close. āyouāre one of the few who make the place look less like a war zone. thatās a skill. most days weāre just keeping the roof from collapsing while someone plays PR janitor for the press and the parents.ā she paused. āthatās not sarcasm, by the way. if it sounds like it, blame the tone. itās permanent.ā she lifted her drink again at to naming the poison, and there was something almost solemn in the gesture now. like it wasnāt just about the cocktail in front of her but everything it stood in for ā the weight, the blood, the pieces of herself she hadnāt had time to put back together. then fallonās question came, and it surprised her enough to make her smile ā a real one this time, albeit a bit crooked at the edges. ātonight?ā she said, tapping a finger against the side of her glass. āi went with the flatline. stupid name, heavy pour. supposed to taste like regret with a twist of lime.ā she took a sip and made a face. āit mostly tastes like college.ā a beat passed. then she tilted her head, eyes flicking toward fallon again. āwhat about you?ā she asked, voice softer now, less guarded. āwhatās your poison?ā her gaze lingered ā not unkind, not pitying. just present. they didnāt need to talk about work. not tonight. not in this bar. not with the music murmuring low and the scent of lime and spilled rum creeping in from the bar. they were both off the clock, barely stitched together in the dim, and somehow, that felt like enough. for now.
Finding out he was a dad had to have been one of the biggest curve balls of his life. Of course he had always wanted kids, he just thought he would have been settled down with someone before that happened. But there was no way he would have turned down taking full custody of Sawyer, even if that meant having no idea what he was doing. One of the biggest saving graces however had been friends with kids, who were willing to give advice, to be down for trips to the park. And with Fallon, having someone else knowing what it was like to be a single parent. So when the chance came around for the two of them to meet up with the kids, despite their age different, Elliot jumped at the chance. Sitting on the bench and bouncing Sawyer on his knees, eyes scanning the faces that came and went, finally landing on Fallon and Violet. Shifting Sawyer to one arm he waved a greeting as the two made their way over. Amusement dancing over his features as she pulled a bag out of a bag.
"You know, you're an absolute life saver." He replied before moving Sawyer into her stroller, letting out an amused laugh as she promptly shoved her little fist right into her mouth. Pretty sure that they were reaching teething territory. "Honestly, I have no idea what I might need of this- Surely it'll be things she'll either be into or need once she's older?" Elliot asked, a raise of his eyebrows. Truly having no clue what he was doing, just hoping that he was doing right by his daughter.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā ā gemma, hi, ā yohan greets after stepping out of the conference room. meetingās done for the day, and he has a little break time. itās also been a while since heās seen gemma, and some casual catch-up is necessary. ā are you just about to take your break, or youāre just walking this way? ā @labcoated
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āwhat, canāt a man ask his favorite publicist-slash-wizard-slash-actual-saint if sheās missed him today?ā jett asked, stepping back with mock offense, hands raised as if sheād truly wounded him. ābesides, i was jogging. you were folder-flailing. so if anyoneās getting sued, itās probably you.ā he offers her a grin, something bright despite the dull morning still clinging to his skin, sweat curling at his collarbone. āyou always look like youāre holding this place together with sheer willpower. i donāt know how you do it.ā then, gentler, just enough to be heard: āviolet okay?ā because he heard her, even if she hadnāt seen him at first. āyou know . .ā he added, already starting to walk beside her, āyou should let me take you out for lunch sometime. purely as thanks. for keeping me out of headlines, jail, and spontaneous combustion.ā a soft smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. āwe both know iād be unemployed without you.ā and then, grinning again, ājust say yes so i can pretend iām charming.ā