we aesthetics;    → come a little closer; thorton & dax

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★ —    “don’t mean to interrupt,” his words are hollow, but the arrogant undertone remains. he taunts the man, staring up the blade and into his eyes, “but the world is plenty big–more than enough room for the both of us… don’t you think?”

the mind games are part of dax’s signature, his own brand of chaotic madness. but he keeps that tucked inside his yellow jumpsuit, masked by the stench of motor oil and sweat. his type is unmistakable, a costume turned practiced persona — certainly not on the cover of a magazine, but the side-streets of urban cities where five-star restaurants are part of the folklore. biker is what he calls himself; street thug is what he is. and his kind prowls around town in packs, and scoff in the face of society, of the order rising from the foundations of embellished establishments — restaurants, hotels, cafes, and couture. he revs the engine of his motorcycle, and speeds down the streets like the grim reaper follows him in hot pursuit.