<div class="floatright">(https://78.media.tumblr.com/2920a153723ecb0839325321967508c3/tumblr_oplvw8Nk7Y1w6bn9yo1_500.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Evion Raymond (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=281599.msg13847475#msg13847475)<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>White suit as pictured (https://78.media.tumblr.com/2920a153723ecb0839325321967508c3/tumblr_oplvw8Nk7Y1w6bn9yo1_500.jpg)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Hilton Hotel Ballroom<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Tanner, Xander, Juliet, Richard<br/><hr/><br/>Stone still, shell shocked. Feet planted but body still forward like the leaning tower of Pisa.<br/>Halfway torn between apology and cheering. Tanner has moves. Two opposing forces battle it out inside. He made his old time friend crash into his high school crush; he is the best wingman to ever hook a brother up.<br/>Evions mind runs a million and one times ahead of his mouth, mostly undiscernible and utterly unusable, no realisation of whether they escape the thought prison and take heed into his mouth. Adrenaline fuelled fucked-that-shit-up thoughts and their own volition. Dangerous. No pause button but it`s likely English tumbling on and tumbling out.<br/><br/>“I, I, I`m, uh, sh-shit! Shi-ii-ahh, no, my, fuck. I- fucking, sorry, god. Shit. I`m so-”<br/><br/>He`s about to talk more when his brain catches up with the backlog from his ears. Evion gives tanner a strange look and tilts his head slightly. “Y-yeah that`s, that is, yeah what- uhh. Hel- hi Ta-Tanner?”<br/><br/>Coconut milk. Coffee k-pop? K-pop milk?<br/>Evion only orders that at this stylish café down the block from his studio. Nice selection, sexy lounges, good wait staff. The Cloud, immortalised as The-Only-Reasonably-Priced-Place-That-Doesn`t-Charge-Arm-And-Leg-For-Coconut-Milk has saved his stomach with the gift of knowing how to portion the weird nut milk and tea while serving amazing in house brews. Firmly understands that shit goes rancid super quick? All time fave.<br/>Evion eyes Tanner like the man reading a newspaper on a bench talking into his coat hood. Suspiciously.<br/>His internet history may be public to government branches but his chill coffee and script time was not.<br/><br/>Regular cafe addict extends his hand and composes the off-kilter posture into a proper sweeping bow. A confused, unsure of current plane of existence, missed the last scene of dialogue in a drama, seed burrows into his brows and pulls them together.<br/>“At your service, Xander, Rich, Ma`dame Juliet, thank me no further.”