<hr/><hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">"Let's Get This Party Started "</span></strong></span> </div><hr/><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://40.media.tumblr.com/b98973f987c4ef79a514d3bfbf27f1e4/tumblr_ngww5p1ilB1sbw1gto1_500.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"><strong>NAME: </strong> Dominic DeCosta<br/><strong>AGE:</strong> 35<br/><strong>LOCATION &amp; TIME:</strong> Gymnasium Building, Heading for the Office Of Dominic DeCosta | 9/2/16 2:13PM<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong> Ciseleigh Capshaw <em><strong>CLOSED</strong></em></span></span><br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"><br/><br/><br/>Cheeky. He liked it... to an extent. Her sharp tongue was earning her a subtle smirk at best, but her feather-light touch and light floral scent? Needless to say, he was inspired to shift aside in the door frame silently, allowing her passage. If she wanted the strong, silent, misogynistic type, he could deliver. It wasn't as if this was the first time he'd been pigeonholed. <br/><br/>Crossing back to his desk, he slouched against it, thick arms clenched as they crossed to fold over one another, his cloudy greys misty like the afternoon skies. <br/><br/><strong>"The Alums donate their taxable maximum. What we need is a Public Relations reformation, given our..... delicate... student body." </strong><br/><br/>Throat cleared amidst his pause, he knew she'd understand to what he was referring. Crowds weren't exactly lining up to see a bunch of mediocre, sexually confused students half-ass a football game. He had decent players, this year. The media was his obstacle. Their reputation preceded his appointment to the Head of the Department, so he'd walked into this pants around his ankles. Quite literally, given how his interview wrapped up. <br/><br/><strong>"Remake our image. Advertise. Promote. Keep that witty repartee for the collective press, Miss Capshaw. If I need a good tongue lashing, I'll let you know."</strong><br/><br/></span></span>