- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- Online Availability
- 3pm - 1am (GMT / BST)
- Writing Levels
- Beginner
- Elementary
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Nonbinary
- Transgender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Monsters, supernatural, fantasy, romance, criminality, slice-of-life (modern or set in past, usually with some twists)
The idea of relaxing around Franky was one he would adamantly state he upheld. He liked to think that he was relaxed and casual around him, as friends would normally be in one another's company, but the prospect of fully relaxing around a man he was employed to protect at all costs was fundamentally unfeasible. The moment he let his guard down, Franky could potentially get hurt. He was famous and rich; a catalyst for jealous maniacs to try and harm for whatever warped reason, especially with the rise of Leopold and his friends.
"...You know, you shouldn't tell me to relax, Franky," he laughed after murmuring his order, holding back on the extras he usually ordered just out of awkwardness - just because Franky had money didn't mean Kyle felt comfortable having it spent on him. "If I relax when I'm on duty -which I'm technically always on when I'm around you- then you might end up getting stabbed in the chest or shot in the head. I don't want that on my conscience-- nor do I want you dead. You're my friend and... I don't want to have to stand at your funeral, telling everyone that your death was my fault for not protecting you, you know? I'll always be a little... on edge, but it's because I care about you, yeah? And it's my job."
"...You know, you shouldn't tell me to relax, Franky," he laughed after murmuring his order, holding back on the extras he usually ordered just out of awkwardness - just because Franky had money didn't mean Kyle felt comfortable having it spent on him. "If I relax when I'm on duty -which I'm technically always on when I'm around you- then you might end up getting stabbed in the chest or shot in the head. I don't want that on my conscience-- nor do I want you dead. You're my friend and... I don't want to have to stand at your funeral, telling everyone that your death was my fault for not protecting you, you know? I'll always be a little... on edge, but it's because I care about you, yeah? And it's my job."