#dante01

Court knew that Dante wasn’t gay - or, well, they hadn’t ever actually talked about it, but he had heard talk about him on campus. When someone was as friendly as Courtney was, it was easy to hear all the latest gossip. And he had heard enough about the girls Dante had hooked up with or dated or whatever. But he hadn’t fully realized he wasn’t out - he called them enough, after all. Which was what prompted Coco, already a few drinks in, thinking the male was looking particularly good that evening, to sidle over to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Hi,” he cooed, eyes flickering over Dante as he spoke. “You up to anything tonight?” he asked, angling his head to one side, the look in his eyes doing little to hide what he was actually asking about. 

She’d been doing this long enough now but Alma still cringed any time she saw her own face on an enormous billboard, staring back at her. She was stood outside of the Nederlander theatre, sporting a gray sweater and dark jacket - the Manhattan air a little chillier that night. Her face had been puffy from not having slept the previous night and her hair had been in slight disarray after the show she’d just had - Judy Boone, the role of a mother she was frankly tired of playing.

It was dark out and around her had been a buzz of people, actors, fans of the show and even members of the orchestra conversing about who knew what and all Alma could do was stare blankly at her own face across West 41st. It was honestly the strangest sensation seeing yourself everywhere - haunted by your own face on buses, bus stops, billboards tacked against skyscrapers and she had this unrelenting desire to just rip them all down.

“Alma?” called the woman who played Mrs. Shears. “Did you wanna come with us? We’re going for drinks.” Alma shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. It was always the same question and she always had the same answer. Truth was, as much as she enjoyed drinking, she really wasn’t very good with other people. And that was a funny thing to think then; considering the fact that when everyone began sauntering away, her eyes landed on someone she thought looked familiar. Her eyes narrowed and...she could’ve sworn she’s seen him before, there was something about his eyes she felt she couldn’t quite place until she took a step forward and; “Dante??”

Of all the people she could’ve met in New York, outside of the Nederlander, no less. “Dante? W-what are you doing here?? Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in -” she paused, “did you - did you come to see my show??”

"...Head of a clock... Did the city steal someone from T-Corp, your prosthetic looks similar to a few people that owe me money."

It seems he doesn't recognize Dante, though to be fair a prosthetic like that is a bit more common in a place where time was kept.

Where: Moonstruck pub

Oakley found his way into the Moonstruck Pub, and plopped down on one of the stools at the bar. “When’s your shift end?” was the first thing he said to Dante. They weren’t exactly friends, but they knew each other well enough that Oakley came by to annoy him often. “I’m bored and I need someone to hang out with.”