[b][center]James Kerrington[/center][/b]

"James Kerrington?" a voice caught the attention of the man seated by the bar. A waitress had ambled toward him nervously, apparently having been accosted two seconds prior—there was a visible wine stain on her chest that she did her best to cover up with the tray she was holding.

Looking up, James gave her a once over before nodding. "Your father told me to get you. Uh, he said, quote, 'Get my stick in the mud child to stop drowning himself in liquor.' Sorry..." she began profusely apologizing as James gave her another nod, though he couldn't keep his features from further exposing his emotions. As if on cue, he caught his father's smoldering look, of which held a keen smirk directed solely at him. It made his insides burn to the point where the waitress asked if he was okay. He quickly blamed it on the alcohol and reluctantly left, giving the girl a tip for inadvertently stepping on the landmine that was his family.

Apparently, he'd caught his mother in the middle of a rant, to which his father waved off as her finding a way to bide her time. Sitting down, his eyes wandered to the last remaining seats between him and his father, suddenly dreading the fact that neither of his parents decided to fill up the spots with their airhead 'friends' just to keep things private. Not for their sake, of course, but for his. If there was one thing he hated, it was being compared to the two people who supposedly raised him. He could only imagine the perpetual scowl of the latecomers at the highfalutin talk of the people that now occupied the table. Of a prenuptial right in the face of a husband of only two years who probably had more 'mistresses' than wives and more wives than James had fingers. This was their business talk, talk that James abhorred beyond comprehension. And at a fundraiser for cancer, too. 

Leaning over, he finally addressed his father's hard stare with a glare of his own. "When is this over?"

"Can't wait to get back to work?" Thomas goaded, beaming at him.

James paused, a deep frown forming, "Father..."

"Did you get a tan while you were there?"

"When?"

"Humor me for a second, son."

James glared deeply at his father, leaning back in his seat as he clenched his thigh under the table. "So, how long have you and... what's her face been married?"

"Lily Anne," the woman shot him a cold glare as she spat.

"Sorry," James apologized, rolling his eyes as he downed his mother's drink. He carefully watched as his father laughed, a hint of agitation seeping through that he relished quietly whilst his eyes wandered off.

At this moment during the fundraiser, he was blatantly staring at the people that gathered in the room, eyeing some of the celebrities as he scoped the room for the two missing attendees. He'd passed two people just a second ago—looking back, he spotted Serenia and another male who seemingly just arrived not too far and possibly heading their way. Squinting really hard, he could barely make out who the other person was, a Lucas. Someone who he hadn't heard much of past a few quips here and there about some brutal hockey player and a few magazine covers with his face on it. James wasn't a very sports intensive guy, so he quickly scanned over him, and settled his eyes on a nearby table where a largish crowd had gathered.

Sadly, he was only ever in the spotlight because of his parents and their past antics, so James was only famous by consequence. Of course, he was either busy or reclusive and didn't quite parade around with movie stars or anything of the like. But, he'd sold a numerous mansion to an abundant amount of people, most of which were seated at that particular table and few sprinkled around the area. There weren't many politicians, though, and those were usually the people he'd sold out of country, beach estates to. That inner thought caused a suppressed chuckle to slip from James' lips, to which his mother gave him an arched brow in response as she reached over him to grab more wine from a wandering waiter.

---

[b][center]Daniel Reinhardt[/center][/b]

He learned long ago that running late to an event did not excuse one from the copious amount of paparazzi that swarmed the door. Apparently, they waited the entire event, beginning to end, to get every picture they could of the passing stars. This meant the late arrivals couldn't escape their fierce determination to capture every moment of every second of every celebrities life on camera. Daniel was no exception, especially as a quarterback and especially as a famous one. The range of pictures varied from person to person, he, unfortunately, got some of the most blinding flashes as he passed by, quickly fixing his suit in the rush, not even stopping for the reporter by the door who promptly called his name as he passed by. Though, he did utter a quick apology before nearly tripping over a decorative tree.

This was it, fundraiser number who knows. Having been raised in the middle of nowhere, it was still a shock to him to see so many A-listers, rising stars, stars of any caliber packed in one room. But, cancer, animal abuse, LGBT something or other, whatever was posted overhead usually didn't mean much but a name to plaster themselves onto and cling for publicity. However, Daniel was adamant about giving to charities and going to fundraisers he supported and felt wholehearted about. This one, he'd nearly lost a baby sister to and soon a mother, so it hit home and the amount of people putting on personas and throwing money around just so they could be seen as a 'could person' brought a large scowl on his features. Not only that, but there was so much gossip going around that it would put a high school Prom to shame, it put his damn locker room to shame and those men talked so much shit it wasn't even funny.

Most of all, though, Daniel felt at odds and almost like he didn't belong where he was. The feeling was enough to immediately turn toward the bar, nearly hitting a young lady on the way. Steadying her, he flashed a smile and an apology before sitting down by a lonely looking fellow apparently talking to the bartender. Looking back, he immediately noticed the figure he bumped into, a girl who could probably relate to what he was currently feeling. Or not... she did look a bit... alternative. Sighing, though, Daniel ordered a water and gave the man next to him a smile.

"So, uh," he started, scratching the back of his head as he let his eyes wander, "what do you do? Director? Actor?"