<div class="floatleft">(https://image.ibb.co/kMDRQ6/muscular-metalhead.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Devon Daniels (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=308599.msg15007879#msg15007879)<br/><strong>Age:</strong>28<br/><strong>Sexuality:</strong>Heterosexual<br/><strong>Hometown:</strong>New York City<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>1 July, 2019<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Villa backyard<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Black leather jacket, sunglasses (https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/bDwAAOSw2gxYrZs7/s-l300.jpg), denim jeans, black boots, and a DTP Ziltoid t-shirt (https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0110/6296/8401/products/5c403ba1fc683c57845ae7c0-original_1024x1024@2x.jpg?v=1564756720)<br/><strong>Coupled with:</strong>None<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Caroline | All Islanders | Open<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Devon's eyebrow quirked as his lips tilted into a smirk, the woman in the Jeep before his standing upright and hollering like some College frat girl that had a bit too many Pina Coladas. First whoo girl confirmed. He was curious if there were any others as excited as she was, but really didn't want to bother looking back at the rest of the convoy in tow. They somehow even managed to emasculate a Jeep with such ridiculous colors. He had broken out into fits of laughter so many times at the absurdity of it all that the driver finally stopped giving him concerned looks and just rolled with it. Now, he just kept the smirk on his face, chewed his gum, and watched as the mansion rolled in closer and closer.<br/><br/>He was going to kill every one back at the bar for this. If whooping and hollering party girls were going to be his options for coupling, he'd have been better off staying in New York. He even told that prior contestant... uh... what was her name again? He wasn't sure he had even been paying attention when she first gave it out. Regardless, he told her just as much. Yet he lost the game of pool, and now here he was.<br/><br/>With a sigh he turned to the driver, eyebrows raised high above the sunglasses.<br/><br/>"You guys back at the studio got a dead pool going on this thing?" he asked. "If so, put me down for two weeks, fifty bucks. I'm good for it." He then patted the driver before stepping out of the Jeep. He reached to grab his bags reflexively, almost looking around to see if anyone else needed help with their own before the show's employees stopped him. That's right, he had to go out and "mingle" or whatever. Tilting his head to crack his neck, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket -- admittedly not the best idea in this tropical weather -- and approached the Villa.<br/><br/>Yeah, it was decorated with just the sort of taste middle-class white folk looking to pretend they were upper class fall over themselves for. Another chuckle burst from his chest as he shook his head, following the whoo girl through the establishment. He had to confess, if nothing else, she had a great ass that her skirt clung perfectly to. There was evidently another woman before her, but her dress was more loose and flowed a bit more with each step. Harder to make out her own figure. Once again he couldn't suppress his chuckle as both women struggled to contain their giddiness, but as they parted he saw their hostess.<br/><br/>Immediately his fingers lowered his sunglasses, looking the figure of the woman over. He had been briefed on her identity, but she looked far more attractive in person than on the photos. Caroline, was her name? While it wasn't necessarily a weakness, Devon had never had a bad experience with an older woman. They always seemed to take their own control of their pleasure, and that always made for the most wild of Mr. Toad's rides. He approached, his eyes drinking her in, and smiled at her.<br/><br/>"So, does the first loser get to couple with you, by chance?" he asked quietly with a wink. He then turned, his long hair billowing slightly from his turn and from Mallorca's tropical breeze, seeking out his own little "heart" in the ground. He paused before hit, his teeth bared in a wide grin as he shook his head. "Soooooo not fucking metal." He chuckled one last time before turning back around, hands back in his pockets, chewing his gum as he watched all the others file on in.<br/><br/><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Video Interview</div><div class="spoiler_body">"Yes, hi, my name is Devon Daniels, and I work as a bartender at Thrashers in New York City, as well as play guitar or bass for any band in the area that needs a serious head banger on their roster."<br/><br/>"Describe myself in three words?" <em>The Islander smirks, his eyebrow lifted and his arms spread.</em> "Totally fu<strong>BEEP!</strong>ing metal, of course!"<br/><br/>"What I'm like <em>in bed</em> in three words? Dude, I already told you! Totally fu<strong>BEEP!</strong>ing metal!"<br/><br/>"Worst dating experience? Okay," <em>Islander straightens up, a smile on his face, but the hand gestures increase. Eyebrows no longer risen. Voice tone suddenly takes on a slight edge despite the smile used to lighten his demeanor.</em> "There are no <em>bad</em> dating experiences. Just bad judgment and bad expectations, okay? If you stop judging people by how shiny their watch or earrings are, by how expensive their suit or dress is, by how nice their brand new car that just sent them into debt is, then you got nothing but their personality to judge them on. And y'know what? If you're not putting them through a pop quiz every date and just have <em>fun</em>, you'll never have a bad date in your life, man."<br/><br/>"First thing I notice?" <em>He stops, eyes averting the camera, shoulders shaking as he goes into full-on laughter.</em> "You're gonna call me a hypocrite after that rant, but it really is the clothes. You can tell how vain a woman is by how she dresses herself up, and a woman that adorns herself in leather and t-shirts of her favorite bands? That tells you about her <em>actual</em> interests and personality. You can tell what a woman is trying to communicate to the world by what she's wearing, and most women are telling the world 'Hey, I'm a superficial liar'."<br/><br/>"My ex? You mean ex<em>es</em>? Dude, what do you think?" <em>Another shrug, grin spread wide.</em> "Totally fu<strong>BEEP!</strong>ing metal."<br/><br/><em>Expression suddenly gets serious, his brow lowering into a glower that shades over his eyes. His voice shifts to a more guttural growl.</em> "I'd be a <em>Red Death.</em>" <em>He then immediately bursts into laughter, shaking his head, fingers running his hair back behind his ears.</em> "Sorry, no, all seriousness probably Bulleit Bourbon. Rough at first but gets your head spinning. Or something. I dunno. Whatever bullsh<strong>BEEP!</strong> people say to these questions."<br/><br/>"What to see from me? Not much, I'll probably be out in a week." <em>He chuckles at his, running his hand through his hair once more. His demeanor gets serious again, but not with the serious edge before. Softer, more genuine.</em> "Look, I just hope to make this fun for all the guys and gals back home watching." <em>He then turns to the camera, a smile wide across his face as he points directly to the lens.</em> "That's right, I'm doin' this for <em>you</em> assh<strong>BEEP!</strong> that put me up to this! Hope you get a lot a laughs out of my expense."</div></div></div>