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Jacob Minor

Sheut Nation
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35 Showing Real Promise

About Jacob Minor

  • Rank
    Fresh Faced


    Chris Pine
  • RACE
    Altered Human, Body Manipulation
  • JOB
    Shadow Head Bouncer/Sheut Nation Regulator
  • 'SHIP:
    Los Angeles
    Sheut Nation
    Jacob is a fairly good looking guy, standing just under six foot. He is compact, defined and thick, extensive training developing a silhouette of muscle that makes him look shorter than he actually is. As a human, he is a powerhouse. He has lightly sun bleached hair which he keeps short and usually pomaded, and is fairly tan. Eyes are a striking blue.

    He is just as comfortable in full and half suits as he is shirtless in boxing or swimming shorts. His collection of suits is precious to him, physique making them difficult to find with the range of motion needed to execute his sometimes needed duties as a bouncer.

    He can be clean shaven or neatly scruffed depending on mood or how many days he has off from work. Appearance in public is always well put together. At his beachfront bachelor pad, it can be a different story.
    Jacob is a clever imp, metaphorically speaking. Sweet, playful, amiable and always ready to flash a smile and charm a girl, he is still highly unpredictable to the casual observer, keeping visitors to Shadow on their toes. He can be seen escorting a drunk asshole from the club while telling him a dirty joke along the way, as well as setting his jaw and taking out the same jerk when if he decides to refuse the head bouncer's simple requests. His loyalty to his boss is unshakable, and he takes his position as serious as they come-both as a bouncer and upholding the secrecy of his position of a Sheut Nation Regulator. His goal for Shadow is order, a pleasurable stay, and making sure the club runs like a well oiled machine. If he has some fun along the way, it's a huge plus.

    He’s a major flirt when it comes to the ladies, preferring intimate whirlwind female company like he enjoys his drinks; hot and fast. Very few are ever able to get further than that. He rarely if ever takes anyone home that he meets, and even fewer get past a one night stand. Highly guarded, the extrovert personality is a clever guise to cover his solitary personal time filled with training, running, swimming, surfing, and working on his 1969 Mustang in his garage.

    When on duty, nothing escapes his attention. He spends a great deal of time speaking with patrons. His surly personality can drastically change the mood of the people he’s with. If the energy is low or tense, he can energize or diffuse any situation through just his flirty personality- heading off more problems that way than tossing people out on their ass. His laugh is contagious, a constant staple to patrons. Though slick and personable, it never comes off as fake.
    -Engraved Dogtags (From Brother)

    -Browning Hi Power (Loaded)

    -Sleek and simple bachelor's flat on his own beach.

    -Small connected garage with a 1969 Ford Mustang Fastback in pieces and a black Honda RC212V motorcycle he drives to work.

    -Collection of vintage surfboards, vinyl records and leather jackets.
    (See Staff Approved)
    (See Staff Approved)
    (See Staff Approved)


    POWER – Replication

    DESCRIPTION – Jacob is able to copy his physical appearance up to two bodies identical to his own. He controls them as one would their own body. Because they are fractions of his consciousness amplified into a physical body and connected through the use of mana, there can be drastic consequences (explained below) if injured. They are not copycats or echoes of himself; they move completely independent of each other- the effect much like twins or triplets. They can be dressed differently or the same depending on what he wants. He has even named them and refers to them as his brothers in order allow others to believe they are real.

    CREATION – Jacob engages mana and focus to create the duplicates- needing intense meditation to bring these other forms to life through composition of matter (much like a 3D printer). It typically takes almost an hour to physically manipulate the forms to completion and project his consciousness to give them life and make them move.

    LENGTH – Depends solely on the amount of actions/tasks that he asks of his copies; lasting anywhere from minutes (in a fight situation- extremely dangerous to his health) to five or six hours. The more activity, the less time they can be maintained. In the few minutes before the duplicates vanish, they will begin to slow down to a resting state and become static. At the time of release, he retrieves his projected consciousness and they break into small bits of mana, dispersed back into the mana pool.

    CONSEQUENCES – His copies can be hurt and even killed, the subsequent consequences to his own health severe. Doubles can take punches- and he will feel it, their fatigue/injury wearing on his stamina and ability to hold them together. The more damage they take, the greater the risk his connection to them will fail and he will be unable to retrieve his projected consciousness. If one dies, his mind will start to collapse in on itself- rendering him disoriented and unable to function unless he can reel in his consciousness before the disconnect. If both doubles are killed there is an extremely high risk of falling into a comatose state, a vegetative state, and even death- the fractured mind irreparable for basic human function.

    POWER- Pheromone Manipulation

    DESCRIPTION- Jacob is able to manipulate his body's chemical reactions and project them in the form of pheromones. They can be attractive, calming or even repulsive and nauseating if he wants.

    CREATION- A scratch of his skin is all it takes to get it started. He finds he has to be extremely careful when sweating as well. As soon as his own blood, lymph, saliva, or salt from perspiration hits his skin he can turn on the chemical cocktail. It doesn't instantly happen, he has to turn it on- though sometimes there may be a residual linger of his own male pheromones. Usually, he licks his thumb and rubs a portion of his body briefly- the back of his hand a preferred spot that doesn't attract a lot of attention. If he licks his lips, the impish rogue is up to something.

    LENGTH- He cannot keep a continuous reaction for longer than a few minutes- it just doesn't work and will lead to disastrous consequences, therefore he uses it in small bursts in attempts to control where it goes. Though the layover to others may be slight, he's found that it's controlled best in extremely brief pushes. After released, they are present similar to a perfumed scent until physically dissipated through air circulation. He can also transfer it to another persons skin; if he licks his lips before kissing someone on the cheek, it will stay with them until washed off- his own version of his phone number on a napkin.

    CONSEQUENCES- To others, they are harmless pheromones that trigger positive or negative stimulation in the brain. For himself, fatigue and extreme social consequences- including a shitload of pissed boyfriends. Since he has no control over how many can be reached, it's a crapshoot that he's not willing to risk very often. If the intended target needs to calm, he can accidentally kill the party's vibe if the air circulation is recycled. If he intends to nauseate or repulse someone, the entire room will fall victim to it as well- a phenomenon he found out the hard way.
    - Martial Arts: Before Resonance he was a three time world champion of Mixed Martial Arts.

    -Avid Surfer, Swimmer, Runner, and enjoyed "Iron Man" type competitions also before the Resonance.

    -Good old fashioned mechanical skill, able to fix any car that isn't computerized.

    -Loves to read, can devour a novel in a day- particularly fond of Harlequin romances.
    “Someone once told me that it takes a great man to change the world...”

    They took Greg, out of everyone on the planet, they took Greg. The man who defended him from punches, who helped him through the struggles of his parents' fighting and eventual split. He was more than a brother to Jacob, he was his best friend. Whenever dad would try and attack him, reeking of booze, Greg would be there to hide him away. He was Jacob’s only light through a very dark time, and he had been killed long before his physical body died.

    It was Greg who taught him to fight and the value of a sense of humor before heading off to the Armed Forces when he graduated. He would teach Jacob discipline with a smile, which would spark his interest in the art itself. He would use the discipline as an escape, and something that could potentially save him from the powerful hits to the face by his horrific father. After Greg was deployed and sent away the seriousness of his father’s abuse came to life. Now separated from his brother and mother, he was left with only his father. He would now be broken with pain and fear, or take a foothold and become a mental and physical powerhouse.

    His father was poor, spent everything on liquor and nothing on his son. So he had to work to afford the lessons, any spare time he had he would run track, swim, or go to the free gym, making him one of the most physically capable people around. Soon he was big enough that even his father knew better than to antagonize him. He moved out before graduating high school to live on his own, working various jobs, and all the while continued to take classes as he rose through the ranks of martial arts.

    He was twenty when the tragedy hit. His brother came back, broken and suffering from PTSD. There was nothing that could be said or done by Jacob to try and revive Greg to his old self, he was just miserable in life, and wanting nothing more than to die. It was Christmas Eve when he took his own life; leaving a small shaky note and his dog-tags, explaining that if there was such thing as a soul that his would be tied to the metal tags. At the bottom of the note, the great man quote was posted in sloppy writing- telling Jacob that he was a great man, and that he could make a difference.

    Jacob delved into a dark depression, everything fell away' training, humor, the quick smile- he had lost interest in life itself. Oddly enough, his father came to visit him for the first time in four years. He had been seeking help, and wished his best for his son. For a while Jacob blamed his father for what happened, but in the end he realized that his father had nothing to do with the death of his kin. He would just have to face the fact that Greg was his own killer, and there was nothing that anyone would have been able to do.

    He moved on from everything that tied him down, and focused solely on his career in his arts. Whenever someone asks about his past, he is evasive and spins the attention back on the curious. He doesn't want to go backwards, anything but that.

    Traveling the world and gaining hard fought respect was all he knew until the Resonance. His powers were quite real, and threw him off a disciplined game. He had a difficult time trying to overcome and master the new powers, now with full control of his abilities.

    Working at Shadow, he can always be seen with a smile on his face, having decided to put down roots with the opportunity allowed him by Gabriele Salvatierra, the owner of Shadow. He dreams of traveling the world again but given the state of it, it's a distant dream. Gabriele took in the quirky stray and gave him a reason to rekindle the inner fire that had left him for a time. Wanting to do whatever he could to help those who helped him, he accepted a Regulator position within the Sheut Nation and takes his new responsibilities in perfect stride- with humor, disciplined inner fire and a deep laugh that is nothing short of contagious.

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    Bodhan "Triska" Marin
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  1. NY trip for some R and R

    1. Zeph


      oooo.... boy needs some booty

  2. Jacob Minor

    Scotch & Speed & Zombies, Oh My

    The ginger was already moving before he'd even unbuckled himself. Complete obliviousness had sparked to life as soon as the wheels touched the ground. He seemed possessed, agitated. [Jacob]Bo,[/Jacob] it at first was soft as the plane came to a halt and the tiny fanged spitfire flicked switches to open the side door. He thought going to help himself would somehow bridge the rift between them. It became apparent rather quickly though that the man had no intentions of staying put, or telling the bouncer where he was going. Jacob snapped his seatbelt off and began to grab his gear, knowing if he didn’t Eris wouldn’t throw it out the door for him. The ginger grabbed his bag and half jumped, half tumbled to the concrete even before the plane was chocked, making a beeline for the hangar and what Jacob knew was most probably his bike. Two bags were tossed out onto the tarmac, a quick nod to the disinterested Sheut as he too hopped out before the stairs were even down, trotting after him. [Jacob]Bo![/jacob] he was pissed as hell. What the hell was he going to do, tackle the man? Fuck. The plane was already being turned, his gear was in the way, the ginger was taking off to god knows where, phone starting to ring. Phone. He was a patient man… but… Phone flipped open violently, [Jacob]What?![/Jacob] Greeting was uncharacteristic, then distracted. [Jacob]Bo![/Jacob] he snapped after the damn scientist, as if on cue a bike roared to life and he watched the man taxi it out of the hangar. Footsteps stopped, fingers tight in his hair as he tried to calm, there was no way he could stop him. The ginger flipped his backpack on and took off like a rocket. South, please go out the south entrance back to Shadow. No. No..no no no NO! [Jacob]God damn it![/Jacob] he swore viciously before putting the phone to his lips. Fuck. FUCK! [Jacob]Christ, where are you? I told you to be here! He took off, I don’t know where the fuck he’s going. Went north to the highway. Sister’s fine. Everyone’s fine. He’s not fine. Physically yes, just… not fine. Fucking virus bullshit let loose intentionally in a New York hospital. Contained but.. shit… he’s not fine. Hasn't said a word since we left New York.[/Jacob] He caught his breath, eyes flicking to his own bike in the shadows of the hangar. He could catch him, but then what? He wouldn’t talk to him all the way home, why would he talk to him now? How would he stop him? Shoot him? The bastard was a grown man, and he most definitely didn’t need a gun held to his head until Gabe arrived. That would serve up a fucking disaster. [Jacob]Why aren’t you here?[/Jacob] voice was decidedly more quiet, sad almost, still licked with anger. [Jacob]I’m headed back to Shadow on my bike, gonna pick up my car and go home. I need to go home. He’s probably going up to that fucking cabin of his to be a sullen jackass.[/jacob] He wasn’t holding back. He'd never adjusted to the man being part of his life. He upset the balance, made Gabe crazy... made the bouncer a second fiddle. Asshole.
  3. Jacob Minor

    Scotch & Speed & Zombies, Oh My

    Phone shut in the nimble fingers one more time. The gentle closing as it tucked into a hand so capable of destruction seemed incredibly loud against the silence of the cabin. Two fingers leaned against his temple, watching what was left of the city come into view through the gold hazed window, water beyond. As loyal as he was to them all, he wished he was in that surf, swimming against the morning. Chest sighed. Voicemail. A genius in front of him that hadn’t said a word since they’d left the hospital, and a boss that wouldn’t pick up the phone. He watched the guy he’d never taken time to get to know in the leather seat across from his own, the ginger almost unresponsive. He would blink, and take a deep breath every long moment, but there was nothing that registered the bouncer’s presence. Scratched up, banged up, busted lip. They both looked like they had just been through a war. He’d shed his tactical gear, back into the packs, everything ready to put into the cars to take back. He’d cleaned up. He was fine. The ginger? Gabe wouldn’t be happy. Something had broken. Bo had no problem running into the fire, none accepting that the bouncer had come to help. It was beyond that. The further they got from the hospital, the more sullen he became. Shock? He’d seen it. This wasn’t shock, it was something else. Silence was palpable. Wing dipped below the clouds, the phone flipping open again. He got up this time, risking Eris’ wrath, walking toward the back of the plane into the “living quarters” to sit on the bed. It rang repeatedly, waiting, elbows on his knees as his hand rifled forward and then back over the careless sprouts of hair impatiently. Nothing. He decided to finally leave a message. [Jacob]We’re landing. I need you to meet me there.[/Jacob] Phone clicked shut and he returned to his seat, buckling in. [jacob]You need to buckle in.[/jacob] The comment was quiet to the scientist. Nothing in return. Fuck. He sighed again and waited to touch down.
  4. Jacob Minor

    Emergency Quarantine!

    What a fucked up mess this was. If his relationship with the man had been a bit better, he could actually teach him a thing or two about taking care of himself. Here he was again, saving the guy’s ass. For the amount of brains he had, you’d think he’d know better. It was his kneejerk head strong charge into battle despite his own personal safety that could make him feel almost respect for the guy. He had a pair on him, that was for sure, and he admired that. It was his treatment of his boss that had him up in arms. The Czech didn’t treat him poorly in any sense, but Gabe needed more than just a hello every morning. The Sheut Regulator looked up at the older man like a brother, and that was saying a lot. An intervention was in order when they got back. IF they got back. He’d promised him they would, but if the small amount he knew was any indication of what he was walking into- a punch wasn’t going to get them out of it. He’d preemptively taken an antiviral- he still wasn’t immune. [Jacob]Jesus! What the fuck man![/Jacob] the normally easy going bouncer quipped as the plane dipped in a jerk. If it there was a dashboard, he probably would have grabbed it. Granted, it wasn’t Eris -that chick was fucking unbelievable in the air- he was beginning to understand Gabe’s distaste for flying. His annoyance with the Czech was multiplying by the minute. Hours. Hours and hours. The plane wasn’t near as sleek as the ride Bodhan had hitched, but when the buildings came into view on the horizon, he suited up. He hadn’t had a lot of time to grab things he needed. A few military knives, his Browning. The man’s deadliest weapons were his hands. “It takes a great man to change the world.” The words were fresh in the front of his thoughts. Gabe was a great man. So was Bodhan, he just couldn’t find it in his conscience to admit that yet. The plane dipped low, without the regulations of the old world they could do whatever the hell they wanted. Fingers kept dialing, finally getting through to the person he wanted to hear. She was pissed. Piece of junk on her runway. A bike to boot. He used all the grease he could. If it weren’t for a soft spot he’d seen with Gabe, the Viceroy would never have let him land. It was quick, a bit bumpy, but he was on the tarmac before the wheels had even been chocked, a dead run to the bike waiting. No helmet, no nothing, the engine revved and he was off without a second nod, not even waiting for the gate to open completely as he barely fit. In and out of cars, through red lights. He knew exactly where he was going. Smoke was hazed in the air, evident in his nostrils before he even got close. He should not have made promises he couldn’t keep. This was a shitstorm. Explosions had blown out doors, the place surrounded. Parking the bike, he squeezed through the barriers. *npc* HEY! [Jacob]Shoot me or get the fuck out of my way. You’re here to make sure nobody comes out, I’m going in.[/Jacob] he hissed. *npc* Your funeral. [Jacob]Thank you,[/Jacob] eye flicked down to the man’s chest patch. [Jacob]Officer McMillan.[/Jacob] The run intensified, pulling the tags from beneath his flak jacket to bring to his lips in a quick kiss before tucking them back in. Gunfire through the smoke. Shadows from nowhere. Adrenaline on point, the mixed martial arts master left a trail of broken bones, catching a rifle as the owner went down. On point around corners as he crouch-crept toward the sound of more gunfire. Trained by the Nation, a master even before the world went to shit. Pile of bodies. Zombies and otherwise. Normal people were being gunned down too. He was not alone. Why the hell had the doors been blown? For someone to get in? They wanted something. Were retrieving something. Scope snapped around a corner only to duck back. The group moving away from him weren’t the guys outside, they were something else. Precision. After Bo? After something else? He didn’t have time to figure it out, peering back around the corner to listen to the controlled communication. Patient zero? Okies. He wasn’t a genius but that didn’t sound good. Emergency room? They were going the long way, and there was no way in hell he was getting out in front of them without becoming perished. Hand to hand was one thing, twenty feet away from a half dozen rifles was just asking to be worm food. Shadow had corridors. Employee only cross throughs. He unfortunately knew an ER better than most. An ER had them. Places where bodies were ferried to wait until staff could retrieve them. Janitorial. Halls without placards and general traffic. Eyes scanned the placards. Elevators. Likely shut down. He trotted down the hall parallel to where the group had passed, a scanner panel catching his eyes. His kick could break a skull, but steel door locks would break his foot. Aw fuck it, rifle raised and fired several shots through the lock. That was going to get some attention. Pushing through, he barricaded it from the other side with a knife through the handle. Fuck. He liked that knife. Lights were on emergency, the odd red reflecting off gurneys and sheet covered beds, pace picked up. panic bar hit at the end of a rather narrow hall. Rifle snapped up instantly, straight at a face he recognized, both his hands went in the air at the same time as Toby’s. [Jacob]We’re about to have some shitty company. That door.[/Jacob] he pointed at the main double doors the zombies were littered around. [Jacob]Half dozen. Heavy firepower. Looked like military.[/Jacob] Toby nodded toward the door Bodhan had disappeared into. The charmer’s head appeared in the window with a snarky wave. Tough shit if he didn’t like it. He took a position, Toby didn’t move, nodding toward the floor behind the nurse’s station he was positioned at. What the fuck man? The bouncer trotted over, putting two and two together immediately. Good god. Could this get any worse? His brain seethed… ooooo…. he should not have thought of that. No time. He scooped her up, elbowing the door the three were fucking around in and setting her in the corner, checking her pulse. [Jacob]We got company coming. Half dozen through one blown door. No clue how many came through the others. Rifles. Military. Definitely not friendlies. Were talking about a Patient Zero.[/Jacob] Eyes flicked to the bloody body. Great. They were coming here. [Jacob]Toby and I will hold them off as long as we can, but we need another plan. We got minutes, I came through dead man’s tunnel, we can go out that way. We can't stay here, we need another plan now.[/Jacob] He ducked back out, taking a position and waiting, aiming carefully. There was nothing he could do but wait, aim, and fire.
  5. Jakey needs a girl... NY VACATION

    1. Aingeal Clarke

      Aingeal Clarke

      No he doesn't. :P

    2. Jacob Minor

      Jacob Minor

      *noms on Aingeal*


  6. Jacob Minor

    Last Call

    Maybe he was jealous. The suave brute wasn’t really quite sure what was making him bristle. The thought that the he was being replaced? When he’d had nothing, Gabe was something to him. Gave him stability, a reason to get back on the straight and narrow. As a human he was dangerous, as an altered… he didn’t want to go back to the possibility he would be on his own. It wasn’t that he could control himself, or that he wasn’t strong enough to keep himself in line- he just knew what a dark place he’d come from. He respected Gabe like his brother, and that was saying a lot. Now his brother was occupied. What was the old saying? Bros before Hos? Tongue came out quietly to squelch the thought, a rather guilty look toward the Spaniard that the thought had even popped into his head. Blues slid toward Ny as she spoke. "Think so little of me, do you?" “On the contrary,” the snarky humor had returned in the blink of an eye, his own suave smirk at the Sidhe one that seemed to pass between them often. He didn’t know much about her, but he could smell a predator from a mile away. There weren’t many oceans he wouldn’t jump in, but she was one of them. And then, she recused herself. Traitor. He needed to leave too. Next shift would come too soon, fingers tapping quietly on the counter as he listened to the man’s excuse and watched his smooth fingertips noiselessly drum. “And how am I supposed to protect you when you leave without warning?” Lips pressed together. Betrayed. That’s what it was. He was so easy going, so flippant about so many things. The life of the party, always a joke on hand. With this place, he took it seriously. He belonged there, and he thought he meant more to the Spaniard than just to disappear in the night without a word and left to deal with people he didn’t trust nearly enough. “I need to get some sleep,” the comment was a final one. “Or get laid and get no sleep… “ The humor had returned. There were many things he wouldn’t talk about. He wondered truly if Gabe knew how much he considered him family. He was the only ‘family’ he had after all. Powerful frame slid smoothly from the bar chair as only the graceful bouncer could manage, taking a moment to peer into the back room and blow Ny a playful kiss on his way out. He paused a moment, enough to glance back at the owner. “Congrats,” the words were quiet before he slipped out the door.
  7. Jacob Minor

    Last Call

    "Hello Jake. Rough night, darling?" The chuckle warm in his chest hid -and told- volumes. He never really found relationships to be his cup of tea, mostly because the whirlwind one night stands were so entertaining. Unfortunately they tended to linger on his features longer than he liked. Sex was like a battery, while she slept post fun time, he usually was in his garage working on his car, and didn’t skip a beat as the sun rose straight into his morning swim and jog back along the beach to his bachelor flat. She was typically gone when he got back, and it usually meant the night owl crashed right away. A nice bath from the swim, and no motivation to shave, unless he was working. Couldn’t look like a scrub when everyone here was so… enchanting. His silence was a bit playfully bitter. Gabe didn’t seem to favor being forthcoming with exactly where he’d been and what he was up to. Never really was. Sometimes he didn’t feel like a member of the Nation at all. He wasn’t invited to the festivities, what the fuck was that all about? Eyes quickly fluttered upward to where he knew the man now attached to Gabe’s hip was probably sleeping. Or getting into trouble he had to clean up, expression a bit like an older dog that now had to deal with a energizer bunny puppy in the house- soft frown as Ny offered to grab the bottle he’d missed the shot with. "…that stuff is about twelve hundred a bottle. Not exactly gulping material Minor." “Good, that’s how much you owe me in overtime for being a good host while you were gone ,” he muttered and swiped a highball glass to fill again with water. "Lushing on me Jacob?" “Do I need to?” scruffy beachcomber sat back on a stool now that he was being spoken to like part of the club, a little closer to the owner this time. Elbow rested on counter, no longer hovering like a bee around flowers… now expecting some sort of explanation. "Oh, are you two going to kiss? Because I would love to watch. Or are you going to fight, because... Well that might be an even better show." Dark lashes blinked as he tipped up the water, “could do both at once, “ he muttered into his glass at the inside joke at the expense of his own abilities. “Entertain you too… at the same time…” voice echoed into the glass. "…I am too tired tonight to teach him how to do either." Deadpan glare was not amused, “nothing to teach.” He finished his water again, glancing to Ny and pointing at the ring on the man’s finger. “Did you know about this? …cause I’m feeling a bit left out here because I wasn’t invited.” He scowled at the Spaniard, “does this mean I have to teach pocket protector how to throw a decent punch? Being attached to you isn’t exactly the smoothest gig in the world.” Yah... he was the old dog all right, annoyed at the new pup already.
  8. Jacob Minor

    Last Call

    Right hand rested on his thigh, air a lukewarm scent of well… Los Angeles. Sometimes that could be a great thing, sometimes not. Tonight, the wind was blowing off the water, a refreshing breeze to push the lingering smog away for at least a day or two. Not nearly as terrible as it was years ago, but still a major reason he lived on the water. Visor was flipped up as he rode, roads almost deserted. After last call, they usually were. Dangerous to those that didn’t know what was what. Freedom to someone that wasn’t afraid of a fight. Bike revved once before he shut it down and pulled of his helmet, not even bothering to brush the spikey disheveled mess into anything presentable. Shaving had been out of the question for several days too, a dark gray tee shirt pulled down over low slung jeans that had been fished off the bachelor pad floor. They were clean, just hadn’t made it to the dresser drawer. Somehow, the bouncer still managed to make everything look like a polished, carefree existence. It was a quick stop before he returned home and started his “evening” routine. Run and swim, then to day sleep for his shift the next evening. Drop off the new schedule, head home to keep working on the Mustang until right before dawn. His few days off were coming to a rather quick end. Ears were keen before locking the helmet on his seat, Charles. Smile was easy, nodding to the man as someone was politely helped on their way. He was used to all kinds, even the not-so-human ones. He, after all wasn’t quite in that category either… able to pretty much determine who was who. Something to do with his mojo, the way people smelled or something. Being able to mix chemical cocktails of his own just seemed to heighten his ability to scent those that weren’t quite the norm. Never tried to figure it out, wasn’t really interesting enough to. This guy, wasn’t normal. His companion, was, and he was drunk, and pissed. Jacob pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket, reading it over for a moment to confirm the schedule before flashing a brilliant, easy smile. “Great night?” Charles nodded slightly and continued them on their way, he was capable enough without him, slipping through the door before it closed to hear a voice that had been absent for far too long. Making a beeline for the worker’s commons, nothing escaped his attention. Not even the nice outfit Ny had on for the evening. Schedule posted, his chuckle was particularly to himself. “I see that boss,” he said from the back room, slipping open the fridge to snatch a water and crack it open. Nearly half was chugged before returning and sliding into one of the stools like a repeat customer, a surly quirk to his brows as he watched Ny for a moment. Gaze flicked to Gabriele. Of course he hadn’t elaborated exactly what he’d seen. Only… that he never missed a thing. Water was tipped back again, gaze resting on Ny as he finished it and put the cap back on the empty bottle. She was nice to watch. Yep. No secrets there. He wasn’t a moron though, he kept at least an arm’s length. Always. Not that he didn’t trust her…. … ……nope. Nope, he didn’t trust her. “Okay,” both hands placed themselves gently on the counter to get up, a bit hurt he wasn’t invited to whatever shindig Gabriele had been off gallivanting on. “Good talk.” He slid off and quirked a brow at Gabriele, a two finger salute at Ny as he snatched his bottle and tossed it in the trash behind the counter. Missing. Dammit. He liked to watch her, he didn’t like to get close. It was kinda like climbing into a spider web. But, he wasn’t an asshole. Walking quickly behind, he swiped his bottle and tossed it into the trash, the twinkle of his dogtags bright, snatching the poured drink from under Gabriele’s fingers and downing it for himself. “I’m gonna need this more than you now, old man."
  9. *wiggles eyebrows at sexy poisonous bartenders*


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