- Posting Speed
- One post per day
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Action-adventure, adult characters, alternate universe, anime, crime drama, cyberpunk, darker themes, drama, dystopia, eastern, edo, epic quest, fairy tale, fantasy, feudal, futuristic, grimdark, heian, high fantasy, low fantasy, magic, modern, modern fantasy, modern scifi, paranormal, psychological, romance, scifi, supernatural, urban fantasy.
"Charming? I like to think so." Nick batted his eyes in mock innocently, fighting back a condescending smile. He could be quite charming when he wanted to be, which was usually only when a sticky situation called for it. A situation like the one he got himself into. Staying under arrest wasn't what the blonde was hoping to hear, and he grimaced at Marc's smile. "I'm easily found if you want me," He joked, raising his brows suggestively. He made no fuss about going to the holding cell; although the look on his face as the door closed said enough.
"I have friends, so I'll pass, thanks." Nick said in a slight grumble. At least the cuffs were completely off, if there was an upside to this at all. He turned to look at the entirety of the cell and the few others that inhabited it. They were grisly characters, likely just as awful in attitude as they appeared to be. Nick sighed and went to sit on the bench farthest away from them, ignoring the stares of suspicion and the death glares.
The diner whose address Nick had written down sat on a corner at one of the busiest intersections in downtown. It was an alright place that didn't fit the area that surrounded it. The name he wrote down was that of the young woman who oft could be found in the corner booth, a beach blonde that went by Mel. It was easy enough to judge by the way she dressed that she was of an unsavory profession. In fact, that street corner was her turf. Mel had been an acquaintance of Nick's for some time, since he helped her out of trouble. She told him about some of her clients, the ones she thought were especially weird or creepy. There was one in particular recently that stood out: a man who paid her not in cash, but in drugs. Mel didn't use them, but kept them, thinking of selling them for the money the man should have given her. They were an unmarked brand popular amongst other prostitutes.
"I have friends, so I'll pass, thanks." Nick said in a slight grumble. At least the cuffs were completely off, if there was an upside to this at all. He turned to look at the entirety of the cell and the few others that inhabited it. They were grisly characters, likely just as awful in attitude as they appeared to be. Nick sighed and went to sit on the bench farthest away from them, ignoring the stares of suspicion and the death glares.
The diner whose address Nick had written down sat on a corner at one of the busiest intersections in downtown. It was an alright place that didn't fit the area that surrounded it. The name he wrote down was that of the young woman who oft could be found in the corner booth, a beach blonde that went by Mel. It was easy enough to judge by the way she dressed that she was of an unsavory profession. In fact, that street corner was her turf. Mel had been an acquaintance of Nick's for some time, since he helped her out of trouble. She told him about some of her clients, the ones she thought were especially weird or creepy. There was one in particular recently that stood out: a man who paid her not in cash, but in drugs. Mel didn't use them, but kept them, thinking of selling them for the money the man should have given her. They were an unmarked brand popular amongst other prostitutes.