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Post by Deonte DeSoto on Nov 4, 2014 1:35:55 GMT
While rather variable in nature, there were indeed natural procedures taken amongst certain classes of criminals when they happened to partner up for larger heists, and Deonte was not unaware of these things in the least when he had set about offering up a deal with one of his ‘friends’ when a little somethin’-somethin’ caught his eye. The division of work was rather easy to decide on, and even the division of money wasn’t too terribly controversial with this particular friend – so long as everything went right, anyways, and when it was all said and done, it did, in fact, go splendidly. With a new chink of ‘change’ in his pocket, the easy going and rather bemused young man made his way to the designated ‘meeting spot’, a bar noted for catering to the less than savory by those who knew it.
Drawing up into the bar, the thief gave a brief glance around before strolling further inwards ending up all the way in the furthest booth wherein he’d flop down easily and lean back into the seat. Curling his arms behind himself and briefly shutting his eyes, Deon allowed a soft easy sigh to escape from his lips before he relaxed more formally into the seat. Man he was in a good mood, a great mood, a fantastic as all of hell gets out mood. Nothing could ruin this moment short of a bar fight, and even then he’d probably have a fun time brawling with his mood the way it was. Now ya just gotta show up on time now Mistah Dezzy A snicker escaped from Deon thereafter before he folded his arms and rested his head on his hands.
Desmond Walsh |
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Post by Desmond Walsh on Nov 4, 2014 1:53:04 GMT
 | we were born sick, you heard them say it. The bluette was running a little late, as he tended to when he made plans with people. Why he even set up specific meeting times was beyond him, but here he was in this situation once again. It was rather unprofessional of him, that was for sure, but at the end of the day he was only nineteen years old and he could hardly be considered professional or even mature. Either way, though, he was good at what he did. The certain person he was supposed to be meeting knew this very well. Both of them were very good at holding up their ends of the bargain, and agreeing on how the cash should be split. They worked rather well together, and Desmond was more than happy to have met Deonte. While the boy was thin, for sure, he was terribly out of shape. There was no way he could pull off the physical parts of the business he’d found himself in.
Thankfully, and with physical exertion the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in a couple of months at least, he made it to the pub they’d agreed to meet at exactly on time. He took a deep breath in through his nose to attempt to calm his erratic breathing as he pulled on the door and entered. He felt oddly lightly without his laptop on him, but it was hidden safely at home. Perhaps it was paranoid of him to go to such measures to hide it, but he would be pretty fucking pissed if he managed to lose it.
His blue gaze scanned the pub, falling on the easily recognizable white-hair of his companion. He walked over to him easily, carrying himself with that overly confident and haughty air that he so often did. He flopped onto the barstool next to him and gave him a rather wide grin, “Fancy meeting you here.” He said with a bit of a snort.
drain the whole sea, get something shiny. |
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Post by Deonte DeSoto on Nov 4, 2014 3:52:13 GMT
The sound of the door opening would draw Deonte’s gaze the first few times, but as each time proved not to be the person he was looking for, he came to ignore it. Instead, he decided to enjoy himself, even ordered a beer, and took whatever came at him. Truthfully, it was hard to miss the stark shade of blue once it decided to enter the pub, but Deonte showed very little recognition up until Desmond had come up close enough to speak. The comment earned a small snort and a smirk thereafter as the young man turned his head slightly to fix his gold eye on the other in question. “Fancy shmancy,” Deon replied back with an easy laugh thereafter. “Ya come ‘round here often, Strangah?” was the brief question before Deonte grinned widely once more and fishing an envelope from his person to slide it over fluidly to Desmond.
“Ya look like ya could use ah beer,” was the brief comment thereafter as Deonte switched gears and reached for the very thing he had been sipping on and off for the last few minutes. “Whatcha say? On me dis time?” Deonte asked teasingly thereafter. Considering he had that miraculous wallet of his on hand right then and there, it literally would be no skin off him to pay for a drink or two, but Desmond certainly didn’t need to know that, of course. While they were business partners, Deonte didn't exactly trust, and wat didn't necessarily need talking about didn't get talked about- especially when it came to his own stashes.
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Post by Desmond Walsh on Nov 4, 2014 4:32:13 GMT
| we were born sick, you heard them say it. He settled in at the bar naturally, as pubs were where he spent most of his time when he actually decided to leave the house. He loved the atmosphere in them, even if the ones in America seemed to lack something that the ones in Ireland definitely had. Maybe it was the sense of being at home. He had planned on returning to Ireland someday when things cooled off there, but he could be happy enough here… for however long this lasted. His blue gaze easily held the gaze of that one visible golden eye, never leaving it even as he picked up the envelope and casually placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket. “I try to come round as often as I can afford it.” His thickly accented voice murmured in a response. He rather liked being around Deonte, even if he didn’t fully trust him yet. He trusted the other male enough to keep up his end of the bargain, and that was where their relationship was right now. It didn’t really require a lot of thought.
He gave a breathy chuckle in response to Deonte’s next words. Oh, he could definitely use a beer. He could always use one, in fact. And luckily enough, the establish was pretty shady, so the fact that he was apparently too young drink would easily be overlooked. “I think that sounds lovely, mate~” He answered, running one of his hands through his thick, blue hair. Thereafter he would rest both of his elbows on the bartop, his chin coming to rest in his hands as he tilted his gaze so he was still looking at his companion.
drain the whole sea, get something shiny. |
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Post by Deonte DeSoto on Nov 14, 2014 19:20:32 GMT
A small prick of a smirk played on Deonte’s lips from Desmond’s comment. Afford it, heh, the blue haired young man was getting paid to show up! Sure that wasn’t the entirety of the situation, but right then and there, if he hadn’t, Deon would have been happy to keep the excess cash. Very happy. There was nothing quite like the jingle of change and the crease of dollar bills. It was better than any music he’d ever listened to or any speech he’d heard, for certain.
The invite was more spontaneous than Deonte would let on. Plenty of his very brief work related friends didn’t stick around for a drink, and he didn’t blame them. However, there was something to Desmond that warranted an offer anyways, and when it was taken up, he make a brief gesture on seat placement before calling over a bartender to pull up a new drink. Said bartender would come up rather quickly enough. “Get ‘m whatevah he wants,” he said briefly before gesturing his head sideways to Desmond. “And some more fer me!” It was time to drink and be merry.
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Post by Desmond Walsh on Nov 18, 2014 2:53:10 GMT
The blue-haired male was perfectly content to have drinks with anyone, especially when they offered to pay. He usually didn’t make it his business to make friends, but hey, Deonte was offering and he wasn’t about to turn the other man down. It had been far too long since he’d had something to drink, he spent way too much time cooped up in his tiny apartment with no one for company other than his mouse that rat when he felt brave enough to call upon it for help. Which wasn’t often. But at least it could talk.
He turned to the bartender as those words fell from Deonte’s lips. “Just a beer, if ya would.” He requested, smiling warmly. He wasn’t asked for an ID, which was rather good, since he didn’t have one anyway. Hell, he wasn’t even a legal citizen of the United States, technically. Of course, it wasn’t like he could leave now… not that he’d ever been planning to in the first place, but still. It wasn’t his fault anymore. He turned to his companion as the bartender busied himself with their orders. “So, whatcha been into, mate?” He asked, smirking. “Well, besides our little business deal, that is~” He went on to say.
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Post by Deonte DeSoto on Nov 24, 2014 23:36:11 GMT
A grin wrapped itself across Deonte’s features as the question escaped Desmond’s lips. What had he been up to? Oh plenty of things here and there, he knew. There were plenty of pettier thefts to be had not to mention cons to be made. Aside from that though? “Eh, just the usual,” he grinned after a moment waving the question out of the air as if perhaps it were the smoke of a cigar instead. “Play’d a few games of hoop the other day,” he commented after a moment. It was somewhat out of the ordinary when one put it against his job but wasn’t completely obscure for Deonte either. He enjoyed basketball. It was a past time even when he didn’t grow to the towering height he wanted to. “Ya play?” he asked with a cheesy sort of grin thereafter. It was hard to imagine for Deon, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t damn possible. White people never ceased to surprise him, after all.
Leaning back a bit as he took a fresh swig of his drink, Deonte stretched backwards- only for a spider to randomly appear on his face. Scuttling around confusedly, she crawled up onto his head once he leaned forwards once again. “Move ya ‘rachnid,” he swore softly swatting at the creature who broke into a series of obscure laughs.
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Post by Desmond Walsh on Dec 1, 2014 2:31:18 GMT
He turned in his seat slightly to face the white-haired male, his elbow resting languidly on the bartop. ‘The usual’. Yeah, he could only imagine what that was. Not that he really minded what Deonte did. As long as the other man wasn’t thieving from him, he could do whatever he wanted. Either way, as basketball was brought up, he laughed lightly. “Nahhh, mate~ Even if this skin could stand being exposed to the sun for long periods of time, I doubt I’d be any good. Too short for it.” He kicked his feet on the stool as if to make some sort of point about his height. “I’d gladly play ya at some futball sometime, though~” He went on to say with a smirk. Not that he was any good at that sport either, but Deonte didn’t need to know that.
Around the same time as the other male was swatting at the spider on his head, the bar tender came back around with his beer. He accepted it with a small nod of thanks, taking a large drink of it thereafter. His eyes fell on the spider with a certain wariness. While he wasn’t phobic of them like a large amount of the population, he didn’t really like them either. He took another long drink.
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Post by Deonte DeSoto on Dec 16, 2014 2:23:04 GMT
Desmond was probably lucky he didn’t have too many things of value. Sure he had a decent computer, but other than that, Deon didn’t think he had too many things to steal. The thief was more interested in what was either raw cash or could rather quickly be turned into it. Everything else was not as valuable to him. Should Des have had more things of interest, Deon couldn’t promise, or rather wouldn’t promise, not to steal from him. As it was, this balance kept them both together on heists- at last for now anyways.
As Desmond explained he didn’t play for two main reasons, Deon half laughed at the latter reason. “There’s no such thin’ as too short,” he replied back adamantly. Sure Deon himself was of an unimpressive height, but he still played and played well. The comment on football, at least, earned a grin. He could only imagine Desmond in shoulder pads and a helmet… and it was funny enough. “Ya a linebacker or somethin’?” he asked grinning a bit. That was until the spider decided to make her presence known. Swatting a bit more at her even as she settled on his head, Deon shook his head very briefly causing her to go flying down into his lap where he caught and clasped hold of her.
“Whatcha want bug?” Deon asked causing a soft ‘hmph’ to escape from the arachnid. Giving a wry grin in response, he lifted her to set her on the table. “Der,” he finished before taking another drink. The spider, meanwhile, eyed Desmond before rather quickly scuttling across the bar towards him. Once there, she made to hop on his hand if she could make it that far anyways.
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Post by Desmond Walsh on Dec 23, 2014 6:30:20 GMT
A warm grin appeared on his features as the other male insisted there was no such thing as too short. Well, he sort of begged to differ, but it was nice to hear anyway. Deonte would probably be considered short himself by most of the male population, but Desmond was even shorter than he was – by a good several inches as well. He didn’t really mind his height too much, truth be told, he just liked having something to complain about. Sometimes it was nice to be little and short. He could fit into places that other people couldn’t, and he found himself comfortable in spaces that were too cramped for most people. “Well, maybe you can show me how to play sometime~” He told the other man warmly, taking another drink of his beer.
He blinked a couple times on the comment about him being a linebacker. Confusion was clear on his features for all of a couple seconds before he realized what he’d done. Soccer. Soccer was what Americans called the sport that he liked to play. He didn’t quite understand why they used the name ‘football’ for a game that was played most with the hands but whatever. He laughed and shook his head. “I’m stronger than I look.” He joked back, not bothering to correct his mistake. It didn’t matter that much in the long run anyway.
His attention shifted to the rest of the bar as Deonte was placing his spider on the bar top. His eyes picked out people he thought would cause problems, people he should avoid, and people that maybe he should give a chance as well. He noticed the spider’s movement out of the corner of his eye, though. He jerked his hand away from her with a small yelp, though to his credit his jerking motion didn’t spill his beer in the slightest. He stared down at the spider. “Uh… hi?” He said to it.
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Deonte DeSoto
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Post by Deonte DeSoto on Jan 19, 2015 18:58:20 GMT
A grin retained itself on Deonte’s features as Desmond commented on showing him how to play. “Sounds like ah plan,” he replied gingerly thereafter. What could he say? He was in a great mood, and the thought of teaching the kid how to play didn’t sound bad at all at the moment. That was, up until the look of confusion drew across his counterpart’s features. Before he could ask, a laugh had been made and a head was shook. All was right the world again, and Deonte was willing to take it like that. “Well damn, remind me not ta get in a fist fight with ya,” he teased a little back. He was pretty sure he could still win, all things considered, but it was still funny to say or so it was to Deon right then and there.
The yelp and flinch of Desmond caused Deon to blink briefly before the strange laughing of the spider slowly drew a snicker out of him as well. He would have told Des she was harmless, but for all Deon knew, she could possibly bite like what species she looked like. That would suck. The spider, meanwhile, scuttled closer to the blue haired man before scuttling back again laughing to herself. Her form often terrified people more than that of the greater formed familiars, and it amused her to no end. “Hello~” she replied in a sing song voice reaching up to wave two long arms at him.
It was only then that it occurred to Deonte watching her that he didn’t readily know what Des’s familiar was. Glancing around, he half expected it to appear on sight. “She’s harmless,” he assured Des as an afterthought. “What’s yer familiar, ‘gain?” he asked thereafter.
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Post by Desmond Walsh on Jan 22, 2015 1:24:16 GMT
He grinned as Deonte agreed to teach him how to play basketball. Truthfully, Desmond was rather good at sports. All of his years of playing video games had given him some great hand-eye coordination and he had never been a clumsy person – just lazy. He didn’t much like all the moving that went along with sports, but he had a feeling Deonte could probably make it fun. He was a fun person to be around, just really chill and stuff. Kind of like how he simply went with it when Desmond agreed to playing American football. There had really been no need to correct himself, and he was pleased that it hadn’t been brought back up. “Yeah, ya better watch out.” He stated, snerking at the older man. He was pretty sure Deon – or anyone, for that matter – could kick his ass, but it was all in good fun.
His attention was drawn to the spider as she responded to him, waving her little arms around. Well, that was kind of cute? It felt like an odd thing to think about a spider, but it really was. He smiled a bit at her. Now that she wasn’t jumping at him, she didn’t seem quite as alarming. Not to mention Deon’s next words would put him at ease more. He took two of his fingers and waved them back at the spider in a way that was similar to how she had waved her arms.
He turned to the darker-skinned male when his own familiar was brought up. “Oh. Hang on.” He requested, placing his drink on the bar as he shoved one of his hands into his pocket. He could feel the cool metal of his familiar there, and the soft vibration that meant it was asleep. He wiggled his fingers gently under its form and removed it from his pocket. He held out his hand to Deon thereafter and opened it to reveal the mouse blinking sleepily. It sat back on its haunches and rubbed its forepaws over its face. “A mouse. Goes with my power, I suppose. It works as a computer mouse as well." He explained as the little creature scuttled to the ends of his fingers and wiggled its nose at Deon.
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Deonte DeSoto
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Post by Deonte DeSoto on Feb 28, 2015 18:47:00 GMT
A small shrill noise reminiscent of a laugh escaped from the arachnid as two fingers were waved bck at her. Perhaps she was just amused that he was willing to humor her. Perhaps she even caught on the humor of two fingers instead of two arms. Only the spider would know. However, she was rather quick to scuttle back up Deonte’s arm when Desmond started to move about. Reaching up and rolling one finger over the back abdomen of the spider, the man halfheartedly pet his familiar as he watched and waited for whatever familiar was to appear.
Halfheartedly, Deon imagined Desmond’s familiar to be something large, perhaps as deadly as the big cats he’d seen in the possession of others’. Why he particularly thought this, Deon couldn’t explain. Perhaps it was because he was slimmer and looked like he needed something huge to defend him. Perhaps it was just because he could visualize it pretty damn easily. Either way, as Desmond reached into his pocket and eventually produced a mouse, Deon was less than impressed. A mouse, eh? The explanation that came after, however, earned a wider grin, and instantly Deon perked up again. Now that made sense, hah! As the mouse moved forwards, Deon leaned a little to meet it. “ ‘e’s tineh,” he grinned a little before leaning back again. “Does ‘e talk ‘tall?” As he had learned, some familiars talked, others only made gestures.
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Post by Desmond Walsh on Mar 22, 2015 0:17:36 GMT
Truthfully, the short blue-haired man could have used a larger familiar to protect himself. But Chaos or whoever hadn’t seemed to deem that necessary, and he did like the little mouse who was currently twitching its nose in Deonte’s direction. It was more durable than any other mouse he’d ever had. Usually he busted them within a month or two of purchasing them because he tended to have a temper, but the mouse could repair itself or something – he just had to let it lay around for a little bit and then it was fine.
When Deonte leaned back, the mouse scurried up his arm to sit on his shoulder. He gave a shake of his head in answer to that question. “Naw, he doesn’t. He doesn’t even squeak. I don’t think he has any voice production capabilities.” Which, in the case of the mouse, would probably be a speaker somewhere since he wasn’t exactly an organic being or anything. Sometimes Desmond wished he could take it apart just to see what was going on in there, but he couldn’t find any screws or anything on it, so he wouldn’t be able to put it back together. Oh well.
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Deonte DeSoto
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