Status

Recent Statuses

1 day ago
Current Sounds like it's time to become physically aggressive with your employer
3 days ago
I'm fuckinnnn tired
2 likes
4 days ago
cut my hand on a bread knife so fml
2 likes
5 days ago
Being forced against my will to go outside every day I can't do this anymore
2 likes
6 days ago
With the exception of my main oc, most of my personal ocs are like....over the age of 30 lol. Though I've been RPing more young people lately.
3 likes

Bio

Tricked you? No, I saved you.

Most Recent Posts


Time: 10:30 A.M. - 12:15 P.M.
Loc: Elliot Bay
@: @Mole @miztli @Lucky
Interactions: King Tal, Edward D’alessio, Annie & Bianca, Bailey, Alejandro
Equipment: Several bags of dice, gummy bears, and a portable toolkit



10:30 AM


Right on the dot. Punctual. Perfect. That was what was expected of the Netters. The car ride and subsequent blimp ride were uneventful. When Toby stepped foot into the magnificent bubble hosting the event, it was a bit sparse on people- of course it would be. From what Toby understood, his father had to show up early to prepare for a speech. He caught onto this by overhearing a voice call (or bits of it). In his personal opinion, unprepared speeches were the best kinds. They were always from the heart. If there was one thing he'd ever learned from Dungeon Mastering for the past three years, it was that nothing ever went as planned. Sometimes it was irritating to deal with, but there was usually some value in the chaos. There was no chaos here, though. In this dome, the prim and proper atmosphere of high society reigned supreme. There was no room for error. Despite having grown up like this, even he found it suffocating.

Or maybe that was his bowtie. He subtly tugged at it but didn't dare remove it. That would be rude. Even he wasn't immune to embarrassment. Sort of. After checking in and joining the well-mannered frivolity, he kept the dark green beanie atop his head. There were several buttons and pins, some animated, of game emblems and Nintendo characters. The beanie was going to stay on the entire time if he could help it- just to spite his dad. Also, he wasn't too enthusiastic about his new hairstyle. Although it was mildly tamed, the dusty gold ringlets were still trying to fight gravity. Why not just cut his hair? Because he liked how it wiggled when he shook his head. It was his most recognizable feature- or was it his freckles?

People were beginning to filter into the party. The decor, as always, was forgettably dazzling. These things blended together in his brain. One fancy thing after another. Toby had better things to focus on. He longed to sit down somewhere and type away at his campaign notes, unfortunately, his father kept dragging him around to exchange unenthusiastic hellos with his fellow members of high society. He couldn’t remember half of these people if he tried. It was all Senior Executive This and Chief Advisor That. Business stuff. Gross. They were all the same type of person that all asked him the same questions. How old are you? Twelve. What grade are you in? Seventh. What’s your favorite subject? Science. Not like anybody asking ACTUALLY cared. It was all just formalities, or a gateway to start speaking about how great they are and what their life was like. And that’s why these gatherings always ate Toby up from the inside.

11:00 A.M.


Toby’s respite came in the form of the Silent Auction. His father wished to participate, and even he had enough emotional intelligence to recognize that such an activity would bore his little son to death. So long as he was accompanied by King Tal, Toby was finally permitted to go run off and do whatever it was children did to have fun. His father sent him off with a small word of advice: “Stay on your best behavior, Tobes.”

Best behavior, my ass!

It was a rebellious thought that Toby had no true desire to act upon. He didn’t have it in his heart to cause any lasting trouble towards anybody. Even with his gaggle of tween besties, they generally stayed in line- even with Marylin, who was more of the rowdy and rebellious type. He wished her, Noah, and Yu were here. It'd stave off the boredom. But alas…they were summoned to be with the people, mingling in school instead of a fancy luncheon (as if their private school was any less elitist). Toby stopped to get a look at the Surplus performer. Compared to everything else he could look at, this was by far the most interesting thing in the room.

"Hey, King, record."

The cybercom focused its attention towards the performer. A blinking red dot in the center of the dragon's left eye signified that it was recording. The entire ordeal was rather doglike- but that was how the world functioned. The Surplus begged for scraps of money from the Netters. Toby was too focused trying to decipher the tricks, though. Was it sleight of hand? Holograms? Both? It was on the table. The mechanical hands of the performer were quick and laser accurate. This was far too complicated for a "regular" human to accomplish on their own. Would he get any cool augments when he got older? He was on the fence about it. Yeah, they were super sweet, but that usually meant getting a body part lopped off. He'd had enough surgeries already!

"Send that to The Bitch Hunters."

The Bitch Hunters was a group chat consisting of all of his aforementioned best friends. Toby was, obviously, phenomenal at nicknames. The Bitch Hunters was a reference to his last campaign and it sorta...stuck. It was a play on the witch-hunting theme and teenage vulgarity.



Toby was worrying about it. Technically, he still hadn’t begged his father to let him leave early. He’d get to that eventually, right?

12:00 PM


Oh boy, FOOD. With the help of his clunky headphones and the internet access provided by Tal, Toby barely noticed the hour tick by. He pulled the headphones (which matched his at-home gaming rig) and trotted over towards the meticulously decorated tables. The swan napkins were so unnecessary- but they were cute. They only lived to die, as pretty soon the fabric water fowls would be unfolded, effectively killing them, and their remains would be used to wipe up the messes of human existence. It was a sad way to treat a corpse. But there were no corpses here. Hopefully. (That’d be very awkward.) Like everything else regarding the Netters, their existence was artificial. Birds aside, Toby was one of the last to be seated at the table. Naturally, he had to scoot past several attendees, including another woman with several augments and brightly colored hair.

“My bad, sorry- cool hair,” he apologized to Bailey as he accidentally bumped into her chair. He didn’t recognize her. He sat himself next to his father, who was currently having a few polite words between two younger women he didn’t know very well.

Toby wouldn't really catch on to why his dad was always flocked with women. Bianca and Annie were far from the first to lay their eyes upon the man. The semantics of romance were beyond Toby. Indeed, the senior Da'lessio was a rich bachelor, and he was only 40 years old. With his wealth and status, of course people wanted a piece of the pie. Edward seemed a bit out of his element. He was far from awkward, but he was distant. Regardless, he raised glasses and exchanged plenty of handshakes with anybody who spoke to him. He did the very same with Bianca and Annie.

He’d ordered himself a helping of the more breakfast-based meals. He had a personal goal to try any and every variety of French Toast he could find. Why? Because why not. So far his favorite was the kind he ordered from Moe’s Diner- It was a giant little place themed off of a romanticized 1950’s pre-AutoAmerica. Apparently the waitress cybercoms delivered food on roller skates- but Toby didn’t know that. He’d only ever ordered from the menu online. Delivery was the safest option. The mention of a book burner made Toby swivel in his chair, disturbing his train of thought about all-day breakfast. Really? Here? COOL. He’d never seen one up close before. They were like real-life paladins- sorta? His green eyes fell upon Alejandro, but they widened with surprise when they caught sight of his K9 Cybercom.

"Your dog is badass! What's the PSI on that thing?" Toby blurted this out without thinking. His dad gave him a look. Oops. Holding out a polite hand to shake, he quickly corrected his behavior by introducing himself. "Hi. My name’s Toby D’alessio. What’s yours?"

Toby was a kid and still not completely corrupted by classism. In fact, he didn’t fully understand the weight his surname carried. He spoke with the Surplus because they tended to look more unique than Mr. & Mrs. Perfect with their identical suits and dresses, all styled with the same amount of creativity used to draft an algebra PowerPoint. The only reason anybody bought them was because the price tags screamed "I'm Money!". This was why Toby stuck with his beanie that screamed "I Like Video Games!" After all, games were more important to a 12-year-old boy than money. For once, he was actually enthusiastic about making small-talk with a stranger.

12:15 P.M.


The banquet went silent as Edward D’alessio, who had a microphone clipped to the lapel of his blazer, stood up and raised a glass of some kind of sparkling liquid Toby was unfamiliar with. Ah, it must be time for his speech.

“Before we begin, if I may have your attention,” his father started, “I would like to raise a toast towards all of you in attendance. Friends, acquaintances,” his eyes fell upon Toby for a moment, “family. Sincerely, thank you for making this event a reality. And to our sponsors, donators, and supporters, I thank you personally with all that I am.”

“Twelve years ago, I was blessed with my son, Toby. A parent wishes nothing but the best for their children, and I am no different. But my son was born with Cleidocranial Dysplasia, a bone disorder that affects the development of skeletal tissue. With the exception of resequencing the genetic structure, there is no known cure… However, he successfully received clavicle implants last September- and it was all with the help of people like you. I am truly grateful for the opportunities presented thanks to charities such as these. My son can now stand tall and smile amongst his peers. May you all continue to bring light into the lives of those around us.”

He was neither standing tall nor smiling. Toby pulled the seam of his green beanie lower and lower as he shrunk into his chair. This was utterly humiliating. Even if his gaze was transfixed on the floor, he could feel the stares of strangers boring into him. Eugh. The way his father played up his condition made him feel…gross. Really, it wasn’t that bad- funny, even. If this ended up in the news, he’d be the laughing stock of the entire academy!
I fucking love bass guitar fuck you the bass is supreme

my magnum opus

this would require too much context to explain

Bump motherfucker I wanna talk about cowboys lol
Update: I figured it out, I'm in the mood for a western (because of course)
Welcome to my special Hell.


My name is Perf. I'm a misanthropic and reclusive individual that behaves more like a wild animal. I like to write, draw, game, and look at spiders (I also enjoy beetles). Like them, I'm ultimately harmless. I've been role-playing for about 7 years, give or take.

I'm a transgender man. My pseudonym is Perf, short for Perfidious. You may also call me my name, Virgil. I'm a gray-aromantic queer man with too many boundaries for his own good. I have BPD with psychosis, but I don't bite.

I'm what the Cool Kids call "angsty as fuck". I write about dark, violent, and uncomfortable topics. My characters are flawed beings like the rest of us. It's not all bad, though. I'm a sci-fi and fantasy enthusiast. I've always loved fiction as opposed to reality because I don't think it really exists.

Anyway, this is a compilation of shit I enjoy for my current/future RP partners to reference.


Fandoms
-D&D
-The Legend of Vox Machina
-The Legend of Zelda
-Portal
-Red Dead Redemption
-Merlin
-Avatar The Last Airbender
-Undertale
-Stranger Things

Genres
-Western
-Sci-fi
-Futuristic
-Medieval Fantasy
-Modern Fantasy
-Dark Fantasy
-Mystery
-Horror
-Angst
-Drama
-Gothic

What I like to play
I have an affinity for playing edgyass, deeply flawed characters. I like my angst. I currently love fall-from-grace tropes and corruption arcs, meaning a characters that slowly lose their morality trying to achieve a goals. Revenge arcs, descents to villainy, and madness from power really tickle my fancy. Other things I have enjoyed exploring is the idea of true evil, and what societal expectations can do to a person. Don't get me wrong, I also like a good redemption arc. Most of the bastards I play are undergoing some serious psychological struggle.

What I like others to play
I am not much to dictate what my partners play. I'm good with just about anything. If your character is flat, I will scream. Please, just have some depth. Hobbyless, goalless characters are hard to work with.

RULES
1. You do not have to have a plot to ask for a roleplay. We can create one together.

2. All I request is at least two paragraphs of material. That's 10-14 lines. I can write pages if needed but would prefer not to.
(I am VERY tired right now and I struggle to write more than 4+ paragraphs. I am at the mercy of my own head, apologies)

3. I am a bit peculiar with romance. It can be introduced as a sub-plot or if our characters have chemistry, but don't assume our ocs are dating right off the bat (unless the plot was engineered that way). On the topic of romance, I find it to be very very boring on its own. I am, first and foremost, an angst writer. I don't find fun in fluff/wholesome relationships. My characters are toxic people who create toxic relationships.

4. I love sci-fi and fantasy, and would prefer that over slice-of-life. However, I also enjoy darker themes that include crime and violence. I'll settle for angsty realism if needed.

5. LGBT+ is fine. I mostly do bxb anyways. I can do bxg, but I cannot play women in the relationship. Seeing that I am transgender and a lot of my ocs are also transgender, do keep that in mind with pairings. If you don't like queer people, politely fuck off. I can tell the difference between ignorance and bigotry. Don't be an ass. Side note: trans men are MEN, and their choices with their body are none of your business. I've had to tell this to people several times- don't be one of them.

6. I don't care what faceclaim/image/art your oc has. I draw most of my characters, so whatever.

7. Try not to ghost me, but I get it if you do. If you don't like the roleplay, just say something or leave. If you feel like I'm ignoring you, just send me a message. I am unmedicated, so I can and WILL forget things. I have a habit of isolating myself, so prod me when I start going too quiet.

8. Do something. Please. Don't just be a complaisant little fellow. Make tour character argue, disagree, or cause conflict in some sort of way. I'm tired of having to make every plot point myself. Do whatever the hell you want (within reason)

9. My kink is not your kink. It's simple. Please, just ask first. I'm really not into any hardcore fetishes, anyway. Don't even ask about incest or rape fantasies, I'll pop you. A bit of a tangent, but I don't really like plots that only have the purpose of being horny. Give me a bit of depth, will you?

10. On the topic of smut, I'm very new to it. I don't mind it, and I'm actually curious to try writing some out with a partner. However, I have rules and boundaries. If I say cut it out, don't fight me on that. This also applies vice versa. I am very willing to communicate with you.

11. I'm fine with serious themes just as long as they are NOT romanticized. Please do research so you know what you're doing. I like writing dark, edgy shit, so tell me your limits. Be careful with themes of losing touch with reality, as I have BPD with psychosis. Obviously, I can unintentionally be triggered.

12. My timezone is EST but my sleep schedule is so broken that it doesn't matter.

13. I refuse to roleplay with characters named Quinn or anything too similar. The name is one of my triggers. I also refuse to roleplay with characters named Finn, as that was a bad ex's name lmao. This is non-negotiable.

*14. Do not DM me to RP if you're under the age of 16. Thanks. I do not feel comfortable being alone with people too far out of my own range, ESPECIALLY if the plot is romantic in some way. I'm 18 and will only do platonic plots with minors.
*At the moment, I don't really want to RP with minors. Thank you.

15. Don't vent to me. I do not know you. This is something reserved for friends. I am also a stupid teenager who gives horrible advice. I am heavily burdened at the moment, so please don't stress me out. Roleplay is how I unwind and have fun. Please, just don't. I get it if you need to give me a heads up for something, though.

16. I like talking OOC to plan things or just chit chat about memes and whatnot, usually through discord (though not required). You've been warned.

17. Just to reiterate, I'm unmedicated and that makes me a bit unstable. Luckily this only shows as me growing distant or saying nonsensical shit online. If I start going quiet, prod me and give me a few hours to get ahold of myself. I swear I'm not trying to ignore/ghost you. I will end this by saying that I'm okay and safe, just a little odd and that can be very off-putting. Thank you.

18. This is an extention of #17. As nice and polite as I may seem, I am very much a schadenfreudian. It's very complicated, but I've come to accept myself. I would never hurt anybody in real life, but my characters can be cruel. VERY cruel. Don't ask me for fluff, I love watching things burn to the ground. I theorize this has to do with my BPD and empathy issues. I'm not romanticizing, I'm merely turning my negative energy into something productive. Cool? Cool.


Hello hi.

right now I'm bored and tired of drawing, so why not write instead?

I have no idea what the fuck kind of plot I want the moment, oops- but I'm not into fandoms at the moment. Feel free to throw around ideas. I am looking for something with possible NSFW undertones/moments but good lord, don't be overly horny with me.

The OC I plan on playing is a very much gay, genderqueer man. If that doesn't interest you, please move along.
Completed character turnaround for Father Auburn

Time: 1:18 A.M. - 10:00 A.M.
Loc: Vordaunt Residence -> Dolly’s Apt.
@: N/A
Interactions: Blossom, Nigel Vordaunt
Equipment: HEDD



Dolly couldn’t feel anything. It was great. A smile pulled at his lips and his head was lolling as he swayed slightly in place. It was fine. This was fine. He couldn’t really think if he tried, but that was okay. At that moment, everything felt okay. Dolly stumbled forward and almost fell, but he was quickly caught by a pair of arms that didn’t belong to him. They were Nigel’s. Standing in front of him was a taller, older man with grizzling hair. His expression was neutral, almost a bit stern.

“You should probably go home,” he remarked while tilting his head.

Dolly gave a small giggle as he tried to regain his footing. "Yeah…”

The young man wasn’t particularly concerned about what was happening or what would happen. He just continued to smile stupidly with flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes. He seemingly melted into Nigel as he was hoisted into his arms. He usually hated being carried, but he couldn't summon the willpower to do anything other than lie there. He was utterly exhausted. How could he not be? He hadn't slept properly in days. This was actually the most relaxed he'd felt in a good while.

That's why Dolly willingly let Nigel spike his drink. He wasn't sure what was in that quarter-full whiskey glass given to him, but it took the edge off-- especially after his little nova-coke binge early that night back at the venue. It was worth whatever would ensue, as he wouldn't remember it, anyway. And that was fine. That was okay. At least he had convinced himself it was. He was a proper junkie, pretty much willing to do anything for his next fix. It was getting quite hard to keep his head up. The tips of his fingers that hung limply from his arm were tingling slightly. That meant it was working. The world was a lot fuzzier here.

Nigel wasn't escorting the little musician to a car that would chauffeur him back to his apartment. Not yet anyway. He carried him deeper into his residence, where the lights were dim, and the music was soft.

9:00 A.M.


Mornings were designated for mood crashes. From the second he opened his pale eyes, the pit in his stomach opened. It felt like all of his organs had fallen into it. Simultaneously, the overwhelming urge to vomit hit him like a truck. He shivered at the sensation of saliva welling up in his throat. The taste of his own mouth was nauseating. He had to go do something about that… If it wasn’t for his physiological hangover symptoms, he probably wouldn’t have crawled out from his bed for another two hours. Dolly rolled over from the comfort of his warm blankets and dragged himself to the closest trash can. He didn’t have the willpower to make it to the bathroom. While running a dainty hand through his hair to hold it back, he proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach into it. His body shuddered rather violently again- well, maybe not. Any mildly exaggerated action could be “violent” in the context of his frail body. It was disgusting. And he was also getting cold while kneeling on the floor.

And yet he stayed on the floor, completely still and silent. The only noise he made was in an effort to keep his own snot from dribbling out of his nose. Although he was almost always on the verge of tears, that wasn’t the reasoning behind his little sniffle. It was like a timer. Silence. Sniffle. Silence. Sniffle. Rinse and repeat. In actuality, his nasal passages were irritated. He gently rubbed the fleshy bit of his nose. It was a little pink and stung a bit. This was what he got for spending his night snorting nova-coke. Just another nasty little habit of his. Add it to the pile. He…needed a second. He was debating whether or not he’d sit there, go back to bed, or take a shower.

His brooding was interrupted by the rhythmic steps of a pink cybercom- his cybercom. She was a rather cute thing, modeled after a bunny like some sort of cyborg plushie. She extended a mechanical, pink paw towards its owner and offered him a water bottle. When Dolly looked up at the rabbit android, it became abundantly clear that he needed to go rot under a shower of hot water for a while. Rather reproachfully, he took the bottle and raised it to his lips. Blossom, the little robot, always made him think of Nigel. After all, he was the one that purchased her. Everything seemed to loop back to Nigel. God, he hated Nigel. Sometimes he felt like he could still feel the older man’s hands on his hips. It was mostly forgotten, but the events of what had taken place at the Vordaunt Residence were floating hazily in his head somewhere. Finally, it registered that he had somehow gotten back to his apartment. This was alright with him. Dolly tilted his head back and swallowed a few mouthfuls of water. Maybe it'd help him resist the urge to throw up again.

With some help from his bed frame, Dolly managed to pull himself off of the floor. The cool tile was sapping away his body heat, along with his will to live. He passed the water bottle back to his cybercom and then stifled a yawn. He was still tired. He must've slept…almost six hours? That was actually a record. He was lucky if he caught even four consecutive hours of shuteye. Another reason he'd been threatened with being replaced by a fuckin' robotic clone. Back on the topic of robots… He cast a glance back at Blossom.

"Rabbit, time?"

If it wasn't clear that he didn't like her, it was now. He'd never called her by her proper name. Ever. She was just Rabbit, sometimes with The added to the front of her title. Blossom also had no proper voice. She was fitted with some of the highest quality speakers available in her upright ears, but those were for playing music (mostly). She could, if needed, use text-to-speech, but Dolly never had any use for such a function. She trotted up to the human, her cartoonish eyes flickering away. The screen that made up her face now displayed a few lines of text. He paused to read it.

"Mkay," Dolly mumbled and then gently shooed her away. 9 A.M. It should be raining again. No new messages from Hiro. Seven unread from Buck. 417 suspected spam. Whatever. He padded into his apartment's cramped bathroom- it wasn't too bad for him, as he was short and skinny. It was pretty much perfect for his size. That didn't mean he was very fond of it, though. His mood further dropped when he finally got a look in the mirror. as he saw the marks staining his white skin. Deep purple spots, some mauve and tinged with pink, littered his neck. A parting gift from his boss. He only ever had one rule: no marks. Of course, the rules didn't apply to a man like Nigel. Dolly watched eyes turn glossy and he quickly looked away. He needed to turn on the shower tap. So that was exactly what he focused on doing.

Silent crying was an art he'd mastered thanks to the same man. Dolly wouldn't even cry audibly in the privacy of his own home anymore. He wasn't some stupid crybaby. In fact, he didn't even think he had a good reason to be upset. Marks fade! He had makeup! It was fine! He was fucking fine! Nigel hadn't even hurt him this time, so this was better than usual. His vision blurred momentarily before he felt a tear roll down his cheek. Goddammit, stop crying. Stop crying. He swallowed thickly, removing the curled index finger that he was not-so-gently biting in an effort to stay quiet. This was fine. He was fine. He hurriedly dropped his clothes, which consisted of a white tank top and light pink undershorts. He didn't remember changing into this, which meant it was probably Nigel who did it before sending him home. Christ.

The sound of the pattering hot water masked that his breathing had gone funny. Dolly hopped inside, sighing as he felt the warm droplets wash away the tears cascading down his face. His shoulders slumped as he managed to relax, but only after a shiver ran down his spine. He was probably going to take a while, which was whatever. To hell with utility bills, Nigel would pay for them. The rising steam soothed his nose, thankfully. The irritation combined with the congestion brought from sobbing forced him to resort to mouth breathing. It made him feel stupid. Sleeping with his boss made him feel stupider. Everything else made him feel like one of the stupidest morons to grace this bitch of an earth. The thought alone made himself suppress a pained whimper. He loathed his self-awareness.

Dolly's time in the shower switched between looping thoughts about how much of an idiot he was, and what color he should temporarily dye his hair for the next show. It helped calm him down before he inevitably made himself cry again. Blue. He liked the color blue. A few streaks of powder blue would provide good contrast, as most of his wardrobe was pink. He was getting a bit tired of it. He wanted to get the stuff that glows under blacklights, as his natural hair color (or lack of it) shined brightly under them if he used the right hairspray. When he exited the shower, the reddening in his face had mostly faded. Although, the whites of his eyes were still a pinkish hue.

10 A.M.


By the time he was dried, dressed, and finishing his makeup, an hour had passed. He would've liked to go back to bed, but that would have proved to be redundant- sooner or later, he was probably going to be summoned to do something, whether it be an interview, meet-n-greet, or a PR stunt. Instead of resting, he put on one of the most oversized jackets he had (it was a shade of bright pink that matched his cybercom) and sipped on an energy drink. It tasted like battery acid and cough syrup, but it was one of those things he was used to. Breakfast consisted of caffeine, aspirin, and a leftover Chinese takeout. He shooed Blossom away every time she tried to hand him his water bottle again. He was very short with her, as he was adamant about not needing her help. Sure, his head was throbbing, and his muscles ached, but he was just fine. Maybe if he kept telling himself this, it’d come true.

Dolly finally relented to the rabbit’s fussing, but this was only because he needed something. After snatching the bottle, he plopped himself onto his bedside and called over to the android, his elbow resting on his knee as he supported his chin in his palm.

“Rabbit, I need to send a message to Hiro- a private message, for Hiro only.”

The cybercom approached and let out a soft chim to signify she was recording.

“Hey, so…” Dolly mumbled. He inhaled sharply to try and regain himself. “I just wanted to ask if you wanted to meet up at Happy Noodle again. I know we already went, but…I dunno, I’m just bored. End message.”

The phrase “I dunno, I’m just bored” was Dolly code for “I really need some help right now”. Hiro knew that, and he was probably the only one fluent in such a cipher. Dolly was never really honest around Blossom. He was stupid, but not stupid. Nigel had remote access to her, which meant he could go through all of his messages, history, and even spy on him in real time. He stopped caring about the privacy violations long ago. Dolly let out a sputtering sigh that made the locks of hair in his face fly forward momentarily. And now he would wait for a response. It could be minutes. It could be hours. Hell, maybe even days. Hiro was an elusive and busy guy. Honestly...Dolly didn't know that much about his personal life.
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