[align=center][div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: verdana;"]♦ — marko prided himself in knowing everyone there was to know in san creado. he was friendly, talkative, and could drive practically the whole town in an hour on his motorcycle. he was prideful about a lot of other things, too, such as his biker gear allowing him to stay out in daylight for a relatively long amount of time before it started to get absolutely unbearable. of course, it eventually became too much to handle, the heat of the summer sun combined with his layers of clothing not being much help to the growing pain on every piece of exposed skin (his midriff, neck, and fingertips), and he had to go inside eventually. pride over not needing to sleep nearly as often as humans was there, too.
still, he did have to go inside, and where he happened to park his motorcycle happened to be a campy little cafe near the edges of town, where tourists might stop by for lunch while they do tourist-y things around the tourist-y part of the half-destroyed town. not that there were many people visiting, anyways; they usually showed up around october, so he felt no need to hide, anyways. at least, he didn't have to hide his all-too-long fangs. he really did wish they were shorter, seeing as he managed to cut his lip open with them at least twice a week.
marko stepped into the cafe quickly, not daring to take his helmet off yet. with his patch-covered jacket, it wasn't like anyone wouldn't know who he was, anyways. no, instead he scanned the place for a booth with minimal sun, and discovered a face he didn't quite recognize. that was rather interesting, seeing as the woman didn't exactly look like she was a tourist there to stay the night and get "frightened by the ghosts" or something. no, she looked almost comfortable, and that was why he was intrigued.
so he sat down at her booth, closed the curtain, and took off his helmet. it revealed a sunburnt face despite the helmet's visor supposedly keeping him safe from the sun's harm, though his eyes twinkled with his usual excitement regardless. "haven't seen you 'round before," he said, a chuckle spilling out of his mouth. it really was an interesting situation for him; it was rare to bring newcomers into his little town. "the name's marko, i run things around here. you're...?" he held his hand out for a handshake, expecting for her to answer him.
he laughed a little more, realizing how silly he must've sounded. he was turned before growing out of some rather childish features, and having someone who looked 17 tell you that they were the boss of sorts must be rather ridiculous. no matter, he loved those kinds of misconceptions, and figured that they would only ever aid him in life. getting underestimated was always better than getting overestimated, especially in terms of fights.
oh, and he'd have to disagree with the woman's taste in beverages; the blood of one's foes was often the sweetest type of drink. he'd rank it right after blood mixed with soda.
//this got longer than i intended anyways welcome!! hope this post is along the lines of what u were expecting oml
still, he did have to go inside, and where he happened to park his motorcycle happened to be a campy little cafe near the edges of town, where tourists might stop by for lunch while they do tourist-y things around the tourist-y part of the half-destroyed town. not that there were many people visiting, anyways; they usually showed up around october, so he felt no need to hide, anyways. at least, he didn't have to hide his all-too-long fangs. he really did wish they were shorter, seeing as he managed to cut his lip open with them at least twice a week.
marko stepped into the cafe quickly, not daring to take his helmet off yet. with his patch-covered jacket, it wasn't like anyone wouldn't know who he was, anyways. no, instead he scanned the place for a booth with minimal sun, and discovered a face he didn't quite recognize. that was rather interesting, seeing as the woman didn't exactly look like she was a tourist there to stay the night and get "frightened by the ghosts" or something. no, she looked almost comfortable, and that was why he was intrigued.
so he sat down at her booth, closed the curtain, and took off his helmet. it revealed a sunburnt face despite the helmet's visor supposedly keeping him safe from the sun's harm, though his eyes twinkled with his usual excitement regardless. "haven't seen you 'round before," he said, a chuckle spilling out of his mouth. it really was an interesting situation for him; it was rare to bring newcomers into his little town. "the name's marko, i run things around here. you're...?" he held his hand out for a handshake, expecting for her to answer him.
he laughed a little more, realizing how silly he must've sounded. he was turned before growing out of some rather childish features, and having someone who looked 17 tell you that they were the boss of sorts must be rather ridiculous. no matter, he loved those kinds of misconceptions, and figured that they would only ever aid him in life. getting underestimated was always better than getting overestimated, especially in terms of fights.
oh, and he'd have to disagree with the woman's taste in beverages; the blood of one's foes was often the sweetest type of drink. he'd rank it right after blood mixed with soda.
//this got longer than i intended anyways welcome!! hope this post is along the lines of what u were expecting oml
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[color=lightcoral]♦ ♦ ♦ DON'T YOU LOSE MY NUMBER