"You did it! Congratulations! World's best cup of coffee! Great job, everybody!" - Buddy the Elf, Elf
NATIONALITY • French
BORN • Limoges, France
AGE RANGE • 27 to 39
BIRTHDAY • July 23rd
SEXUAL ORIENTATION • Straight
HEIGHT - WEIGHT • 5'10" - 170 pounds
BODY SHAPE • Inverted Triangle
HAIR - EYES • Brow - Brown
GLASSES • No
LANGUAGES • English, French
OCCUPATIONS • Anything
EDUCATION • Primary School
NERVOUS TICK • Drinking
WEAKNESSES • Sex
TIME OF DAY • Night Owl
PIERCINGS • None
TATTOOS • Forearm
SMOKES • Yes
HOBBIES • Pressing Flowers, Wine
EXERCISE • Running, Surfing
MUSIC • Caravan Palace, Parov Stellar
MOVIES • Moulin Rouge, Elf
BOOKS • Sacre Bleu, Dune
FOOD • Quiche
DRINKS • Wine, Whiskey
COLORS • Gold, Green
PET • French Bulldog - "Hugo"
SCIENCE FICTION • CIRCA 2017
Pursing his lips Mark tightened his face before hearing the new voice enter the conversation. Turning around he stood between the pair, looking back and forth before focusing on Rothko. Dropping his gaze he looked over the man. Making note of the differences in his face compared to the police sketch. Locking his jaw, hearing it crack before running his tongue across his teeth.
“Rothko?” Moving closer to the man Mark did not hesitate to step into his personal space. With wide eyes Marta had been staring at Rothko, shocked at his sudden appearance. And worried. Making her feet feel rooted to the stone floors of the kitchen. Though hearing Mark’s voice she broke free of the shock and reached out, her fingers grasping around Mark’s bicep quickly, trying to pull him back and away from Rothko. “Don’t.” The calm demeanor of Mark’s voice had left, taking on a murkier tone, a large hand reaching out and shoving Marta away - her small frame stumbling back, hitting the counter as she let out a wounded and annoyed huff of air. Her face picking up, long back hair a mess over her face as she glared at Mark, watching as Mark grabbed ahold of Rothko’s shirt.
“I have every right to arrest you on sight.” He almost growled the words, his face stoic despite the tenor of his voice. Pulling Rothko up toward him by the collar of his shirt, “who the hell are you?” With the words he shoved Rothko back slightly, pushing him backwards into the wall and making to move towards him before being shoved backwards.
“Hey!” Arthur’s voice had cut into the scene, strong hands pushing against Mark’s chest and moving him away from Rothko, pressing him into the counter, Mark’s head lightly hitting backwards against a cabinet as Arthur held him there. Trying to straighten himself up Mark’s gaze took in the room, quickly recognizing Amber and Haley tucked back at the glass door to the backyard, brown orbs darting to Marta before looking back at Arthur.
Pausing for a moment he looked at the man. “You just don’t learn do you Arthur.” The words were subtle, quick and to the point as Mark moved. Reaching up, easily breaking Arthur’s hands away from their grasp on his shirt and grabbing the man, one hand taking a fistful of cotton and the other hooking under his arm and spinning their bodies. Grunting at the weight Mark kept the momentum and swung Arthur off the ground, flipping him over and onto the marble counter.
As he was flung backward Arthur’s head cracked against the metal of the sink, a deep groan leaving his chest as he was left sprawled on the kitchen counter, his head hanging awkwardly into the basin - the world upside down as he tried to reorient himself.
“I am not in the mood for games.” Mark was taking cooling breaths, tight in his nose, making his face appear longer as he looked back up at Marta.
Freeing his eyes of the stars Arthur blinked, catching sight of the small spigots. Turning his head to the side slightly he ignored the way Mark’s hand pressed powerfully into his chest, his hand reaching out up over his head, fingers wrapping around the smooth metallic surface of the sinks sprayer.
“We are not playing games Mark, we are…” Quickly Marta was cut off, her eyes lingering on the brown gaze glaring at her. Watching as water cascaded against the man’s face, his eyes growing livid.
Mark was frozen, he could feel all the eyes in the room on him as he turned and looked at Arthur. The man propped up slightly, his stomach tight as he held the pose, one hand holding up the sink spray nozzle, a few lingering drips falling on his shirt. Slightly dumbfounded Mark looked at the man, a stupid grin spread across Arthur’s face.
“Are we about d-“
The words were left unfinished. Another burst of cold water splashing against the bridge of his nose, making Mark close his mouth and sputter slightly. The muscles in his neck tightened, hands taking a tighter grasp on Arthur’s shirt and dragging him off the counter. Dropping him on the ground with grunt of pain. Leaning over the man Mark took the hem of the shirts neck, picking him enough before hammering him, straight in the face, a quick stream of blood breaking free of his nose and over lips.
Arthur’s hands reached sideways, grabbing ahold of a cabinet handle, trying to pull himself off the ground before Mark’s fist slammed into him again. His jaw aching as he fell backwards onto the floor.