<div class="floatleft">(https://i.ibb.co/ggDY06q/devon-daniels-8.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>July 3rd, 6pm<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Rooftop Terrace Bar and Grill<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Black T-Shirt with Kiuas Spirit of Ukko album art (https://www.soundi.fi/wp-content/uploads/old/soundi/record_review/Kiuas_The+Spirit+Of+Ukko_1652.jpg), Sunglasses (https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/bDwAAOSw2gxYrZs7/s-l300.jpg), Jeans, Black leather belt, Boots<br/><strong>Coupled with:</strong><del>Cleo Balleta</del>Whelp, not anymore<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Corey<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Devon felt a bit exposed without his leather jacket, but he'd been quickly learning that in heat like this, it was a bit much just to be walking around in<em>jeans</em>rather than shorts. Just another step out of what he was learning was the comfort zone of Thrashers and his corner of New York City. He and Corey met at the front of the villa as planned, but for whatever reason the show's producers and crew insisted on each of them taking a different vehicle. When you've spent your adult life using public transportation and carpooling, the idea of using separate vehicles for just two people felt unnecessary and like some ignorant show of extravagance. Weren't people in show business supposed to be Liberal? Couldn't an argument at least be made for the environment?<br/><br/>Whatever, man. Time to get his drink on.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(https://www.hotelsantfrancesc.com/sites/default/files/13-en-lobby-bar-patio-mallorquin-cocktails-hotel-centre-palma.jpg)</div>So he headed up the elevator and stepped into the relatively sterile looking rooftop environment, at least compared to the bright pinks and blues of the Villa. It was actually a bit refreshing to be looking over an environment designed with men in suits and ties in mind. Which, naturally, made Devon stick out like a sore thumb, but that only added to his enjoyment of the scenario. Shattering expectations could be fun. So he stepped up to the bar, scanning the different bottles laid out in the back as he rested upon his elbows, hands rubbing together. They had a decent selection, but he'd been hoping for something more local. Unfortunately, the Spanish didn't really seem big on that style of alcohol.<br/><br/>"Get me one glass of the DYC 8 (https://www.spiritscorner.com/en/whisky/spanish/dyc-8-years.html) on the rocks," he noted to the bartender, pointing the green bottle out, "and a glass of Maker's Mark on the rocks." DYC was the only Spanish brand he was familiar with, and it seemed even out here in Mallorca it was the only sort you could get. Guess he'd have to feel like a common tourist with the whiskey. At least he didn't order Jack.<br/><br/>Once the tender had placed the two glasses upon the bar top, Devon took hold of them and found a comfortable corner for he and Corey to occupy. There was a menu left upon the small table with the various foods available, many of them closer to appetizers than full on meals. He took a sip of the DYC, adjusting to its particular burn as it flowed down his throat. Not bad.<br/><br/>"So looks like I'm without a partner myself now," he said as Corey sat down, alluding to the earlier text that they'd all received making note of Cleo's departure. "Tell ya what, this just hasn't been my day, huh?" He gave the younger fellow a smile before rubbing his hands over once more, scanning down the menu. "Y'know, I'm gonna end up having so much Spanish food on this trip that I don't think I'm going to eat it for like, fifty weeks after I get back home."