Marcus Taggart

Mathis snorted at the stranger’s question, appraising his look, “Nice. Very nice. Fresh as a daisy.” Or, you know. Like a drowned rat, though the image didn’t really do anything to diminish Marcus’ charm. He was friendly, charismatic, and clearly had a sense of humor. His size made him a little intimidating - in a bar fight against most anybody else, the Savoie would almost definitely put his money on him - but he also seemed like the kind of guy you could tell all your crazy problems to and he’d listen quietly and then give great advice.

Long story short, he’d made an incredible first impression, and privately Mathis could admit just how interested he would be if he only happened to be single. Of course he’d been off the market for years now, but while he was committed, he wasn’t dead (and only a little bit blind). Even knowing how inappropriate it was on both personal and professional levels, he still caught himself staring at Marc as the man picked up his beer and took a drink. It took a concerted effort to remember where they’d been in their conversation, and to politely look away.

Grabbing a bar rag, he busied himself with wiping down the nearby counter, “Well, we try to keep it pretty boring around here. I’d say sometimes we even succeed. Tonight’s been quiet, but-” He glanced towards the clock on the wall. “It’s still early.” His lips twitched with a small, cryptic smile that, unbeknownst to him, probably made Marc love this place all the more. The paramedic was absolutely right to think there was more here than met the eye, and if he kept winning over the right people, maybe he’d get the chance to learn why.

“It’s nice to meet you, Marc. My name’s Mathis. I’m the bar manager, so… Basically I keep the lights on when Laslow’s not home.” That was a small joke between the pair of them - that they were both here so often, they might as well forward their mail. The Savoie’s actual residence was on Algiers, however, and his whole face lit up as he realized he’d actually been onto something, “No, I think that’s it. I live near the point. I thought I’d seen you before. Not in an ambulance, either. Not that I haven’t done dumb shit. Just-” He grinned, “Nothing lately.”

Once the glass was set down on the table and the conversation with the bartender started, he reached up and plucked the towel off his head. His hair, still damp from the rain but not soaked, cascaded down his back in wavey tendrils. He could imagine he looked like one of those hair commercials, but likely he just looked like a sodden disaster sitting on a bar stool. Water dripped from his clothing and puddled on the hard floor around the stool. He’d apologize, but something told him he’d just get it brushed off. He was sure the floor of the bar had seen worse than a puddle of rainwater dripping off the clothing of a patron. 

A smile spread across Marc’s lips and he gave a hard nod. “I like the sound of that. The night is still young, trouble can still be found. it’s nice to meet you, Mathis.” Marc found trouble easier than other people, though he didn’t often mean to find it. His size invited it for some reason. People took a look at him, towering over them and thought... he’d be good to lose a fight to. Marc didn’t get it, but he also didn’t back down from a fight. “I’m hard to miss, if you thought you saw me around, chances are you did. I don’t recall seeing you, but I’ve only been here a few months, which has largely consisted of working and exploring the nightlife when I have time.” He was here for other reasons, but it hardly seemed the place to get philosophical. 

He’d walked into the bar for a drink and to warm out of the rain. He wasn’t really looking to head home anytime soon, but he didn’t want to drink too much either. He was mindful of his behavior most of the time. He didn’t need alcohol to get into trouble he was just a naturally joyful and “We’ve all done dumb shit,” he said with a shrug. Marc had seen some truly amazing things, in his day, though possibly the best had been the extremely drunk Oompa Loompa he’d picked up at a Halloween party. The poor guy had had a broken arm but he hadn’t let it get him down. He had, however, spent much of the night sobering up in a hospital bed. Poor dude. 

“If you find yourself in my rig, I’ll make sure to take good care of you. Wouldn’t want that boyfriend of yours coming after me.” He hadn’t really meant to say that, but the image he’d caught when he was talking had been more forceful than he’d expected. It wasn’t a bad image, honestly, it was a very simple one, but the emotions that came with it told more than the image actually had. A handsome blond with multicolored eyes was standing beside the man in front of him, the pair stood next to a bike on the side of the highway. It was dark, the only light came from the solitary headlamp of the old bike. What shocked him had not been the two men, but the fangs that glinted in the light as the blond smiled. The shock of that had nearly stunned Marc into silence but the force of the emotions he caught from the pair made that impossible. He understood the feelings, even if, currently he didn’t have anyone he felt that way about. 

There were a lot of faults Mother Nature could find with a city like New Orleans. The civil engineering was just the tip of the iceberg, but most would never know what lurked beneath the surface. Mathis had often thought that ignorance must be bliss, though he was grateful with greater frequency than he was jealous. There was so much humans didn’t see, sense, understand. When the door banged open and a veritable mountain of a man strode in, most were struck by the electric energy he carried with him, but only the bartender knew what it actually meant.

Before the Savoie knew it - before he could even help it - a grin had crept across his face. Informed that the weather was, at worst, not too disagreeable, he chuckled, “Guess it’s a matter of opinion. If you don’t mind a little lightning, the world’s your oyster tonight.” He then took a moment to truly appraise the soaking wet man before him. In retrospect, that dishtowel wasn’t going to make much of a dent, but tilting his head to one side, he still endeavored to give a useful reply, “Maybe you could use it on your hair… I mean, it’s still gonna be real wet, but you know. Maybe not dripping wet.”

It’d be the only thing not dripping onto the floor, but it was about all Mathis could do to make the man more comfortable. The random articles of clothing he had in his car weren’t going to fit the stranger, and, more than that, would likewise be soaking wet by the time he retrieved them. Simply pouring the newcomer a drink seemed a much better option, and while he quirked an eyebrow at the request, it was really only because Marc suggested that Laslow was classy or old. Blue eyes blinked owlishly before he reached for stout glass, commenting, “You need to come around more often, friend…”

Clearly, the stranger had a lot to learn, but the way Mathis said it, the implication was lighthearted - something along the lines of ‘you ain’t seen nothing yet.’ The crooked smile that clung to one corner of his mouth supported that, but his gaze was on the glass in his gloved hand as he poured a dark brew. “What’s your name? I feel like I know you from somewhere… You don’t happen to live in Algiers, do you?” Nearly closing the tap, he maneuvered the glass beneath a thin stream of foam, drawing a shamrock in the head of the Guinness before placing it on a paper coaster before Marc.

Marc held up the rag in his hand and considered the option of ringing his hair out with it. In a swift motion, Marc bent his head and wrapped the towel around it before coming back up with the hand towel on his head like a makeshift turban. “How do I look?” He asked the man behind the bar with a wink. Ridiculous was the only answer he expected but he’d accept anything the other man said. 

Water wasn’t so much an issue for Marc, considering he had grown up on an island. He lived in the ocean, breathed saltwater. It was in his blood as much as it was on his clothing right now. He wasn’t a water witch, but he felt right at home in it. The electricity in the air, though, the lightning that followed the thunder set his hair on end and made the magic in his veins sing. 

He took a seat across from the guy and awaited his drink. “You might be right about that. This is only my second time into the joint. Every time is a learning experience, though.” He liked that he never knew what to expect out of this place. As a seer, not expecting something made life exciting. He had found a place in the world where not everything made sense and he loved it. Marc was the kind of guy to enjoy just about every aspect of life, but not being able to predict it was the best part. 

He took the drink from his new friend and raised it in salute before taking a drink. The warmth of the alcohol and the deep richness of the hops and coffee that mingled together for the Guinness. “Name’s Marc. I do live in Algiers, but I’m an ENT so you could have seen me around other places. I don’t think you’ve been in my rig, though. I’d remember you.” 

The noise was often very loud for her. Too loud, at times. It was overwhelming, which was why she didn’t venture out into the city much. At least when she was at home, it was familiar. Wolves had high emotions, but she was used to them by this point. She knew the pack well enough to be able to predict them, so it wasn’t a cacophony of conflicting stimulus like it was when she was in a crowd in the French Quarter, it was just a background hum with occasional peaks and valleys. She knew what he was saying, though, as far as some people being louder than others. “That’s true. They are.” She wasn’t sure if her response even made sense, but things were too strange today for her to be able to act as “normal” as she liked to. 

“What secrets?” she asked, her voice soft as well—though her lowering her voice made it far quieter than his. She’d never met a witch who had the gift of foresight, though she knew they existed. She’d always wondered whether it was really that good of a thing to know, though that boiled down to whether you were seeing multiple possible paths for the future or if things were already set on their course. What was the help of knowing things if there was no way to change them? She didn’t like that idea, but perhaps it was the former. 

“It can be hard to block them out. They talk and they talk, even when we don’t want them to. It’s like having a constant phoneline... or video chat open despite trying to close the connection.” He liked the connection he had, but there were times, some peoples futures that he would prefer not to know about. The sadness that gripped peoples lives was often the loudest of all. It could be draining if one let it, but Marc, a constantly jovial and happy person tried not to let it. 

He stood to his full height and shrugged. “If I told you,” he said as his voice gained its typical level of sound, “It wouldn’t be a secret, would it? But perhaps we should continue the conversation somewhere else.” Inside a coffee shop was no place to converse with a person trying to hide her supernatural abilities. In a town like this, hiding was imperative. Marc had no desire to oust either of them for being what they were. He didn’t trust the humans any more than he trusted the hunters. “If you’re up to it, at least. Or you can tell me to get lost. That’s cool too.”

“Bah, don’t worry about it - that was a lifetime ago,” the bartender shrugged, dismissing the apology.  He knew the bear of a man hadn’t meant anything by his question or for any uncomfortable memories that came with it.  The water witch listened intently as Marc replied with his own tales of limited travel, but his desire to go overseas to France.

“France, eh?” Laslow mused.  “Yes, I lived there for a few months actually, studying under an old wine maker.  I was still trying to ply my trade back then and figure out what I wanted to do in terms of brewing.  St. Marlo was the city I stayed in, beautiful old port town , walls around it like a castle and the water - I couldn’t get over how blue the ocean was there.  Paris is of course, beautiful, but I found the coastal towns more charming.”

He shrugged and winked at the bigger man.  “Of course, I’ve got a propensity for water so I might be a touch biased.  Great pastries though.”

Originally posted by celesgosa-rc

“Did you really?” Marc asked genuinely interested in the answer. “I thought about heading over there and seeing what the fuss was all about.” His visions had been extremely vivid of a little town in the French Alps, but he had never really figured out what it all meant. There were visions of a woman and her brother, of a strong family with ties to magic, but beyond that Marc had failed to collect more than the bare minimum. It was important to him, at least it had been once upon a time, but when that time was, he couldn’t be sure. It was certainly not recent, that he was sure of. 

“I ended up landing here instead though,” he said with a shrug as he sipped the drink he’d been given. It was warm and comforting, not unlike the establishment and the man in front of him. “Something told me this place was more important to my current story than France was. I kind of have a thing for intuition. I would be a fool to ignore it.” 

As a seer, he felt like it was his obligation to follow what the fates showed him. It was a gifted the gods had bestowed upon him he would not waste it to find his own path. They’d already given him his path. 

Laslow grinned as the big man finally accepted the proffered drink.  The Serb raised a brow at his cryptic reply as to why he’d chosen New Orleans of all places to settle - but then again he could relate.  His Clairvoyance wasn’t very strong, nor did he have much control over it, but he knew that when his gut told him to be somewhere, he followed it.

“Yes, Louisiana is a pretty far cry from Eastern Europe,” he chuckled dryly.  “As to why I left, well it wasn’t much of a home after the war.  Why New Orleans in particular?  I honestly can’t say…I guess I’m a bit like you that way.  Something told me this was the place to be, so why not?  English was bloody difficult to master though, I’ll tell you that.”

He pulled a face at that memory - he’d picked up fragments of English in his youth and spoke other languages that were common around the Baltics, but for his first few years in America his thick accent had made conversation very hard at times given that the people here generally weren’t as multilingual as his European kinsmen.  His accent hadn’t gone away, but he’d managed to tone it down over the years which became easier as he spoke his mother tongue less and less.

“So, Marc, what other places have you worked besides this swamp and Hawaii?”

Originally posted by snegnoe7nebo

Marc clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Sorry I asked, mate.” He hadn’t meant to bring up bad memories in his quest for knowledge on the polite bar owner. Never was it his intention to drudge up uncomfortable or painful thoughts. He understood the kind of havoc those could have on a mind. He lived, daily, with them. Though they weren’t exactly his own, so they didn’t affect him the way they would those they belonged to. He was an outsider watching through a window, glimpsing images he had no business knowing about. Those that have been and those that would be. 

Time moved in a weird way when you could see beyond what was in front of you. It wasn’t a straight line like everyone seemed to think. To be able to see what some considered the future, one had to look back to see what had already happened. Time was circular. What was to be had already been. What had been was yet to be. It had taken him years of studying with the tribes to understand how it worked and how to understand what he was seeing. Some made a living at it. Tarot and palmistry. Crystal balls and fortune telling. Marc had opted long ago to forgo those routs. He had no desire to see peoples lives as a living. It was hard enough staring into a window of their lives as though he was some sort of intruder. 

“Just those, really. I haven’t had a chance to really get out and about, but I wanna eventually visit France. I feel a weird connection to that place.” It was weird for him, considering he was Hawaiian, but some of the visions he had surrounded a life lived in France. He didn’t really understand his own visions, but also didn’t bother questioning it. He’d figure it out, or he wouldn’t. “Have you ever been? I’ve never actually met anyone that has so I have no clue what it would be like.” 

Her eyes went wide as she processed what he said. He was subjected to other people’s ailments of the future? That had to mean that he was a witch as well. Unless it was just some strange human expression, but she’d never heard something like that before. Not that she was all that well-versed in human phrases. She glanced around, wondering if anyone else might be listening, but the rest of the café’s patrons were going about their business, listening to their music and reading their phone screens and sipping their coffee and coffee-adjacent beverages.

“No, I’ve never felt anything like that.” She tilted her head, looking up at him. Gods, but he was tall. He seemed nice, though. Curious but not a threat. “Like all the background noise went quiet.” She bit her lip, wondering if it was really wise, but unable to stop herself. “What do you mean? About other people’s futures?” She shouldn’t ask, not someplace public, but well… he’d been the one to bring it up in the first place. And she wanted to know what had happened, and who he was, and why he felt so oddly familiar. She’d never met him before. Or if she did it would have had to have been when she was little, before she came to the pack, back when her memories were mostly a blank page. So it had to be something else that made her feel like she almost knew him, like he was someone she’d met in a dream.

He took in a deep breath as she spoke, the act making him look larger than he actually was. Which, was saying something considering he was actually quite large. “The background noise can get very loud if you let it,” he said knowingly. He also struggled with that. His wasn’t the sounds of peoples thoughts like others might deal with, but of futures looking to be seen. He had learned to keep them to a dull roar in his mind, ignoring their nagging, but when he touched something, he didn’t always have to ability to keep the images at bay. “Some people are louder than others, even when they aren’t saying anything.” 

He scoffed a little, eyes shifting around the room to make sure no one was paying attention. His voice carried a lot, it was easy to draw unwanted attention to himself. Thankfully the need for caffeine seemed to have distracted people from his presence. He was immensely grateful for this. He bent a little so that he was more on her level and lowered his voice so that she was the only one that could hear him. “Sometimes, the secrets the future hold aren’t so secret.” He almost laughed when he said it, but he loved his gift... most of the time. 

Laslow snorted and waved the big man’s modesty off.  Money wasn’t any point of contention for him and really, he had more of the stuff than he knew what to do with in one lifetime.  “Bah, call it a drink between new friends then, yes?”

The witch’s dark eyes crinkled in a knowing smile.  His accent did certainly mark him out from the usual crowd that walked the streets of New Orleans, just like Marc’s size and appearance did for him.  America was enough of a smelting pot as it was and he felt no need to shed his cultural identity merely to fit in.  “A placed that’s changed it’s names more than a few times,” he chuckled.  “But nowadays people call her Serbia.”

He snatched up another glass in need of drying.  “What brought you to New Orleans, if you don’t mind me asking?  I’m sure you could work just about anywhere you pleased with your particular profession.  What made this place stand out to you?”

He considered the suggestion. It was much easier to accept a free drink between friends that it was for him to accept a drink due to his profession. He knew true heroes, had seen them in action both in his mind's eye and in person. Police put their lives on the line, firefighters rush into burning buildings. Military men fight wars in the name of freedom. He wasn’t them. Yes, he was considered a first responder, but he was there to back up the real heroes. “That I’ll accept,” he said tipping the drink that had been served to him in a small salute. 

he hadn’t met anyone from Serbia, so naturally, the accent hadn’t been one he had been able to pinpoint, but he supposed it made sense. It had a Slovic sound to it, in so much as the movies portrayed at least. “You’re a long way from home.” He said this as a passing comment, not one meant to field accusation or anything significant. 

He tapped his temple and smirked. “I had a sudden and overwhelming desire to... see the sights.” His visions had always lacked a few key components when it came to his own life, but the second they became clear, he’d packed up and gone looking for what his future held. “What about you, Brah? What brought you here?”

She had no idea how long they stood there, unmoving, before the barista called out what she was assuming was his name and he turned to collect his coffee. It could have been seconds, or it could have been five minutes, and she’d be none the wiser. Whatever this was—this connection or energy or something—was a little diminished once the focus was broken, but it didn’t dissipate completely. It was still there, keeping her rooted to the spot. 

And then he was walking towards her and her heart stopped. For a wild moment she thought he would just walk past her and leave, and she’d never see him again. It filled her with an odd sense of loss, even though she had no clue who he was. This man could be anyone, he could be anything, and she didn’t know why it mattered to her so much when by rights she shouldn’t care. It wasn’t like she was the type of person who was often making new connections—being both painfully shy and leading a rather insular life didn’t translate well in that regard. 

But then he stopped in front of her, and spoke, and she felt that strange sensation again. “I…” she only hesitated for a moment. “I felt the same thing.” Normally she wouldn’t admit that to a stranger—especially not out here, where there were humans around. She always tried to hide the parts of her that hinted at a supernatural heritage, being afraid that if she didn’t some hunter might catch on and decide to take notice. But somehow, she felt she could trust him. “Has that ever happened to you before?” He looked a decent bit older than her, though she wasn’t really great at guessing people’s ages. But maybe he’d run into something and had insight. 

Marc took a sip of the coffee as he passed. Truthfully, when he’d spoken to the woman, he doubted that she would respond to him. The fear that looked out at him was unmistakable though he had no idea why she felt the terror. Sure, he was a bit of a sight to be held, but he wasn’t a bad guy. On the contrary, Marc was someone that devoted himself to helping people. He didn’t always get there in time, but he made a great effort to be there when people called. It came with the job, but if he hadn’t liked his job he wouldn’t have done it. 

He considered the question for a moment, wondering if it had actually happened to him before. He couldn’t recall a single situation where the world had gone completely still and silent. His visions typically felt more like a train rushing forward. They were quick, with no single way of getting away from them. They hit head-on, blinding and quick and left him breathless and confused for a moment. At least, they had, when he was younger. He’d spent a lot of time with his aunties learning to temper them. He could slow them down, make better sense of them now. “Gotta say it was a first for me. Not bad, just different, ya know? Kind of cool, though. It’s kind of nice not being subjected to other peoples ailments of futures.” 

Laslow couldn’t help but smile.  The giant’s grin and boisterous laughter were infectious.  His sixth sense, weak though it was, prickled again as it often did when in the presence of other preternatural creatures like himself and the witch knew he was dealing with a kindred spirit so to speak.  He chuckled at the admission that he was in fact, not a native son of New Orleans - another thing they both shared.  While it had been well over a decade now since he’d left eastern Europe, he’d never quite shed his Serbian accent and it marked him as an outsider too.

“Well then, we’ve got that in common,” he chuckled, polishing up another glass for the shelf.  “I’m not exactly from around these parts either though I’ve been here a touch longer than you have.”

Laslow’s ears perked when he heard the man reveal himself as an EMT and found his respect for this bear of a man growing.  After living in a war-torn country for so long, such people had been nothing short of god-sent and he had the scars to prove it.  “EMT, hm?  Well, your drinks are on the house today my friend.”

The moment the man had opened his mouth in a greeting Marc had figured he wasn’t a native to New Orleans. He lacked the cajun accent that went with many of the Creole people and the basic American accent tinged with a southern drawl that the rest had. Though Marc hadn’t really been able to place where the bar owner was from, he had certainly known he wasn’t from the good ole US of A. “We tend to stick out like sore thumbs around this place,” he said with a grin. “Even for a place this diverse, it’s easy to see which of the locals are transplants. We’re less obvious than the tourists and more obvious than those that truly belong.” He didn’t mind, he was part Hawaiian part haole. He was used to being noticed for not fitting in. Coupled with his size and it was game over. Marc never blended in and didn’t bother to try. 

He should his head, his shaggy hair moving with him. “That’s very kind of you, but you really don’t need to do that. I don’t want to take money away from your business.” Marc was grateful for the kindness, but he always felt back when someone did that. It happened a fair amount when he was in his uniform. The way people responded to first responders and treated them with hero worship had never ceased to amaze him. “Besides, I’m working later tonight. Free drinks might make it a bit hard to do that.” One was enough. He’d be back, though, for sure. This place was nice. 

Everyone else was going about their day, as if they couldn’t feel that the axis of the earth had shifted. She was used to sensing things that everyone else was blind to, but this felt so significant that it was disconcerting to glance around the small room and see that no one else was even affected by whatever this was. It was even more disconcerting that she had no idea what most of them were even feeling. That was always a buzz in the back of her mind. She’d tried to quiet it many ways when she was younger, but never succeeded. But now, something was interrupting it. 

She held on to her phone a bit tighter, trying to decide whether it was better to pretend nothing was wrong or to turn around and leave in the hopes that this would resolve itself. It wasn’t bad precisely, just deeply unsettling. She glanced around the room one more time, trying to decide her course of action, when she saw him. The one person in the room who was looking at her. The one who looked like he might be feeling whatever this was, too. 

Her immediate reaction was to be intimidated. He seemed rather intense, though she wasn’t sure if that was how he was looking at her or if he was just that sort of person. But as soon as she went to step back, she realized he was also the only person she could still sense. She could feel it clear as day—a mix of strong emotions: confusion, anticipation, trepidation, delight, other things she couldn’t properly put words to. It all swirled around in her mind, but there was nothing aggressive, nothing threatening. Whatever it was that he was experiencing, he didn’t seem to mean her any harm. 

She bit her lip, trying to figure out what was going on. Part of her wanted to go over to him, to ask if he understood what was happening to them—there was some recognition in his gaze, which spoke to him having a better handle on it than she did, as she was completely lost. But her shyness won out over her curiosity almost every time, and it felt far too forward to just walk up to a stranger, no matter how much she wanted to. Especially when she couldn’t even explain why. 

Marc had never really been able to prepare himself for the eventual meeting with the brunette from his dreams. He’d been seeing her since he was five, at different stages of life, in different times, but never did he see meeting her. He saw her and then he saw himself with her, but he never saw the initial meeting that had to take place. Not at any stage or era did he see how he met this small woman. 

Standing there, in the coffee shop, the world passing him by without a thought, Marc had not expected that this place, of all places, would be the way they finally met, but it had to happen, and he supposed, a coffee shop didn’t get any more neutral. So... He took a deep breath and reasoned with himself that everything would be fine. He knew that much, even if the future could change, it wasn’t likely to. Was what he’d seen foretold because he did something here or because he didn’t? He had no way of knowing what the actions that lead him to this moment were, which meant he had no way of truly knowing if he could change things. 

“Marc,” the barista called, breaking the breathtaking feeling that had come with the entry of this small woman into his life. He glanced back at the guy holding his coffee and pivoted on the balls of his feet, pushing himself forward so that he could collect what was his. 

“Thank you,” he said as he grabbed the cup, his deep sun-rich skin showing off the ink that littered his arm. His voice was a deep rumble over the other patrons in the store. He hadn’t heard a single one of them until the barista had called his name. It was almost as though someone had plugged his ears and was only now giving him back his ability to hear again. 

His path, once the coffee was grabbed took him directly where the brunette was. He hadn’t realized in his dreams how small she would be in person. Or how young. There was a lot he didn’t know about all of this, but there were things he did know. “Hey,” he said when he passed her, “I just got the weirdest feeling... like the world stopped moving and everything went quiet. That’s weird... right?”

Understanding a character’s flaws is key to making them well-rounded and believable, so send me a number (and a character, if there’s more than one option) and I’ll tell you:

a trait they have too much of  (ex. too much pride = arrogance)

a trait they don’t have enough of (ex. too little pride = insecurity)

a trait they express in the wrong way

a trait they’re ashamed of

a trait they’re not ashamed of (but maybe should be)

a bad habit

something they do that hurts themself

something they do that hurts others

a reason (or excuse) they haven’t improved on any of the above OR

1. Are looks important in a relationship?

2. Are relationships ever worth it?

3. Are you a virgin?

4. Are you in a relationship?

5. Are you in love?

6. Are you single this year?

7. Can you commit to one person?

8. Describe your crush

9. Describe your perfect mate

10. Do you believe in love at first sight?

11. Do you ever want to get married?

12. Do you forgive betrayal?

13. Do you get jealous easily?

14. Do you have a crush on anyone?

15. Do you have any piercings?

16. Do you have any tattoos?

17. Do you like kissing in public?

20. Do you shower every day?

21. Do you think someone has feelings for you?

22. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now?

23. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat?

24. Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years?

25. Do you want to be in a relationship this year?

26. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you?

27. Has someone ever written a song or poem for you?

28. Have you ever been cheated on?

29. Have you ever cheated on someone?

30. Have you ever considered plastic surgery? If so, what would you change about your body?

31. Have you ever cried over a guy/girl?

32. Have you ever experienced unrequited love?

33. Have you ever had sex with a man?

34. Have you ever had sex with a woman?

35. Have you ever kissed someone older than you?

36. Have you ever liked one of your best friends?

37. Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?

38. Have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to?

39. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have?

40. Have you ever written a song or poem for someone?

41. Have you had sex so far this year?

42. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander?

43. How long was your longest relationship?

44. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had?

45. How many people did you kiss in 2012/2013?

46. How many times did you have sex last year?

47. How old are you?

48. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say?

49. If you have a boyfriend/girlfriend, what is your favorite thing about him/her?

50. If your first true love knocked on your door with apology and presents, would you accept?

51. Is there a boy/girl who you would do absolutely everything for?

52. Is there anyone you’ve given up on? Why?

53. Is there someone mad because you’re dating/talking to the person you are?

54. Is there someone you will never forget?

55. Share a relationship story.

56. State 8 facts about your body

57. Things you want to say to an ex

58. What are five ways to win your heart?

59. What do you look like? (Post a picture!)

60. What is the biggest age difference between you and any of your partners?

61. What is the first thing you notice in someone?

62. What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to you?

63. What is your definition of “having sex”?

64. What is your definition of cheating?

65. What is your favourite foreplay routine?

66. What is your favourite roleplay?

67. What is your idea of the perfect date?

68. What is your sexual orientation?

69. What turns you off?

70. What turns you on?

71. What was your kinkiest wet dream?

72. What words do you like to hear during sex?

73. What’s something sweet you’d like someone to do for you?

74. What’s the most superficial characteristic you look for?

75. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you?

76. What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone?

77. What’s your opinion on age differences in relationships?

78. What’s your dirtiest secret?

79. When was the last time you felt jealous? Why?

80. When was the last time you told someone you loved them?

81. Who are five people you find attractive?

82. Who is the last person you hugged?

83. Who was your first kiss with?

84. Why did your last relationship fail?

Laslow smiled at the stranger’s compliments, bobbing his head to show his gratitude.  He plucked up his cleaning towel again and got pack to polishing up glasses on the shelves behind him to ensue they didn’t acquire any dust.  He turned back to face the beast of a man while he worked since there were no other patrons in need of serving.

“Pardon my asking, but I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before?” Laslow asked gently, doing his utmost to sound sincere rather than prodding.  Of all the things he was, Laslow first and foremost considered himself a gentleman and he hated to offend, but he was a social creature and liked to make conversation with new comers whenever he could, especially being a relative new comer to America himself.  Despite it being near twenty years since he’d left Serbia his accent had never quite faded.  Sure, it had softened somewhat, but he’d always held onto it.  “Are you new to the city?”

Marc was someone that stuck out, when he was around town. It wasn’t such a shocking question when he was asked if he was new around town. He looked out of place, even in a city known for its eclectic style and he towered over most of the patrons even as a tourist. Hiding was never something he did very well so he just didn’t try. Instead, he often drew attention to him. He was loud and joyful. 

“I sure am, my good man. I’ve been here about a month. Came over from the Island. Mahalo.” He’d lived all his life on the island of Oahu, but he’d sent plenty of time on the other islands. He’d only come to New Orleans because his sight had told him to. “I’m an EMT so I’m pretty much always busy. But yours was on my route last week and I thought I’d check it out when I had time.”