#ofangelos

hal: i don't wanna get stuck sitting in between michael phelps and shaun white again 🙄

elvie hates places like this. he sticks out so uncomfortably in the sea of designer clothes and expensive drinks. it doesn’t really matter that he can afford to frequent any luxurious bar in nyc. he so obviously doesn’t belong. it’s no wonder the bodyguard keeping vigil over the huge vip booth stepped into his path before he even got close. elvie huffed, popping his head around the huge figure. “knock knock, dipshit!” for some reason he thought it might be funny to actually knock on the bouncer’s very broad chest. “sorry,” he winced, taking his eyes off of angel for a moment to smile nervously at the man. / @ofangelos

he’s going to some make up brand event tonight with amina, and of course hal knows better than to bother with putting on the stiff, constricting suit that she picked out for him until she was at least finished with her make up. he was seated on their couch with her friend’s husband. someone who he’s heard a lot about, but never met in person before. “huh,” hal mused after marnie and amina disappeared into another room, “you really are angelos almeida. i saw you in the olympics,” he pointed out, an ( awkward ) attempt at starting a conversation. / @ofangelos​​​​

all parker really knows about angelos almeida is that his family is basically the greek kardashians. sort of like the parker - warringtons of britain. he almost wanted to roll his eyes at the comparison. parker doesn’t think that he’s anything like angel. if anything, they certainly don’t look alike, so when a bartender hands him a sleek black credit card identical to his except for the name engraved into the plastic, he scoffs and sets out to resolve the mix up for himself. “almeida,” parker calls after someone who might be him. “right? you pretty boy douchebag types all look the same to me.” he shrugged and flashed the credit card in his hand, lifting an expectant brow. “this yours?” / @ofangelos