#covtalks

one, maverick’s preferred method of transportation is his skateboard. he loved it first because his parents hated it: pushing himself around on a board like that would get him injured—besides, why not just take the car to school, the driver’s paid for anyway. it was his first taste of rebellion. now at covington, where skateboarding is far more efficient than walking across campus, and comes even more in handy when he sees someone he’d rather not stop and chat to.

two, maverick could die with a poetry book nestled on his chest. it’s the one thing he got out of the impressive book collection his family owned. it was something daunting and beautiful about the way poems would transform metaphors into something fantastical. it’s like the emotions were clearly there, but the words were skirting the issue. kind of like how his parents would never really tell him they loved him.

three, maverick is told he looks like his father half the time, looks like his mother half the time. he can’t see it—maybe he does exist in the middle, muddling the line between being a direct descendant of either. he certainly would not want to have his father’s nose, that’s for certain.

four, maverick often has headphones in when he walks to class. not particularly because he’s actually listening to music or a podcast, but rather because he’d just … rather not be bothered talking. usually, they’re asking for favors or talking to him about the golden fleece anyway. plus, it’s interesting to hear covington students gossip—that, and he is often bored by smalltalk, anyway.

five, maverick’s personality certainly changes depending on who he is around. those who don’t put him under the st. james microscope are more likely to get the friendly, witty maverick st. james—those who don’t … well, a dramatic eye roll might be in store.