Entry tags:

dorian gray

Who: Trent & Anne
What: A first meeting, something about Christmas decorations.
Where: The lobby.
When: Late afternoon/Early evening?
Warnings: None.

The day hadn't been a very productive one, and Trenton was returning to Bellum a little early for a change. The day had consisted of a brief perusal of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and an unfortunate brunch at the Biltmore that ended with a security escort off the premises. Two cappuccinos and a handful of valium later, and our boy had arrived.

An Opera pamphlet folded in one hand, slapping a drum solo concerto against the front of his leg. Strolling into the lobby like he owned it, toetapping to his own little beat as he strolled and waltzed across the tiled entrance. Bopping along to some unheard music, a trait that only those who knew him best would attribute to the fact that he'd swallowed a small handful of pills on the cab ride over. Old habits die hard, but Trent was looking put together at least! Working that nouveau professional angle with a white-cuffed blazer and printed silk tie. A regular bird of prey with that slightly overgrown mop of dark hair.