<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>Cleo Balleta<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Cleo | Open<br/><br/><hr/><br/><em>Definitely Trump,</em>Devon thought to himself as Captain America, the very last man not paired off, failed to even step forward for Plain Jane. He had no idea what kept the man's feet planted where they were, but he highly doubted it was to send a signal to anyone else, as it would have been for Devon. So, immediately, the guy was knocked down from Steve Rogers status. He could, perhaps, climb up and away from his new nickname of Trump, but ultimately Devon was unimpressed.<br/><br/>Which, really, covered his feelings on the evening's whole proceedings. Girls held hands and kissed cheeks as if they found their soulmate, and yet by the end of the week they'd no doubt be chumming it up with the other fellows. The masquerade only developed greater heat as he watched a separate pair introduced through the doors. He had to resist giving out a whistle as he watched the brunette step through, her dress cut low enough to showcase yet another impressive rack in this line-up of ladies. It was the guy that got his eyebrow to raise, though.<em>Is this why they chose me?</em>he pondered, seeing another unconventional, tattooed fellow step through. There was an intensity about him, though. Devon didn't want to make assumptions, but the way his eyes scanned the women, Devon got the sense there was more than a bit of narcissist to this new addition.<br/><br/>Really, why<em>did</em>they bring Devon into this whole thing? He was feeling so out of place.<br/><br/>The sudden appearance of catering brought his attention back to the present, and immediately he saw the others gunning for the spread.<em>Well, that's going to be a disaster,</em>he thought to himself. He turned to Cleo, about to offer to grab their food when she beat him to it.<br/><br/><strong>"So are you as hungry as I am? Want to get us some food and I'll find us a place to sit? I love tacos by the way..."</strong><br/><br/>He smiled back, giving her a salute. "Yes, ma'am," he grinned. "If I don't make it back, tell them to bury me in my Reign in Blood t-shirt." He let his hand press gently between her shoulder blades as they split up, her heart cushion still in his hands. Having no clue what to do with it, he tossed it in the air a few times before frisbee-flinging it into an empty chair.<em>Probably going to be interpreted on television as some metaphorical dick-move to her heart,</em>he thought in hindsight. He had to keep this crap up for six weeks?<br/><br/>Finding the plates, he snagged one electric-blue and one hot pink, and began to put his old high-school wait-staff skills to the test. In his hand he held the hot-pink plate, placing multiple tacos, some beans, corn, and salad, and a churro and flan onto it. A good sampling that should allow her to have a bit of everything. Resting between his elbow and wrist he held the electric-blue plate, so that if anyone's dinner was ruined it would be his. He placed two tacos, some corn, some beans, and a churro on it for himself. He groaned at the selection of drinks, all fruity cocktails rather than having any straight-up bourbon. Fortunately, they had what looked to be some locally brewed beer mixed in with the generic trash of Coors and Bud. So he grabbed a bottle, dropping it into his coat pocket before grabbing a Margarita for Cleo. With great care, he managed to switch his plate into the hand also holding the drink.<br/><br/><em>Now watch someone collides into me -- on purpose, no less -- just to make me look bad on television.</em>It was a weird thing, suddenly feeling even a bit self-conscious for the first time since... well, for some years now. He was always confident, always knew where he stood, but he was now surrounded by the sort of people he'd never be caught dead spending time with back home. Perhaps his whole purpose on the show<em>was</em>to make an old-fashioned, uncool metalhead like him look bad? To make him into a doofus.<br/><br/><em>Man, fuck that,</em>he groaned in his head. Recalling that old muscle-memory of high-school, he wove between the different people shuffling about as he made his way from the catering and back towards the pool and yard. He tossed his head enough to cause his sunglasses to pop and slip lower down his nose, making it easier to scan the now darker yard for Cleo. Ah, there, by the Hot Tub. Well, she did mention something about going for a dip in the water, did she not? So he made his way over, handing her the drink with one hand, then her plate with the other.<br/><br/>"Sorry it's so much," he commented. "Didn't know which sides or desert you'd like, so got you a bit of everything." He set his plate down beside himself temporarily as he handed her some silverware, then retrieved his bottle from his pocket. While they had confiscated his pocket-knife and keys, he managed to keep a bottle opener on his person for just such an occasion. He took a swig, the bubbling and bitter beverage welcome in the heat, even as the evening cooled. Resting the bottle on the ground, he picked his own plate up.<br/><br/>"Speaking of apologies," he said, looking out over the pool and the rest of the crowd as they broke up into intermingling groups, "sorry I didn't step forward for ya. I decided I'd only step forward for Red over there, as she was the only one I got any sense of personality." He smirked, turning back to Cleo. "You were right, though. I judged a book by its cover and got burned." He lifted a taco from the plate, looking out to the rest of the crowd. "Who would you have stepped forward for? Y'know, if it was the reverse situation?"