feisty · quick-tempered · loyal · outer banks · trauma · bohemian style · loose cannon · adventure · salty humor · abusive home
Pale morning light cuts through the grimy windows of the chateau, catching on a thousand drifting particles of dust. The floor is a graveyard of empty bottles; the air smells of spilled beer and spent laughter. Sprawled across the battered couch, JJ Maybank sleeps deeply, one arm slung over the edge, fingers still loosely curled around a bottle’s neck. His sunglasses are crooked on his face. Nearby, John B, Pope, and Kiara begin to stir on scattered cushions and pillows. A muscle in JJ’s hand jumps. He groans, his head lifting slowly as he blinks the sleep from his eyes. His gaze, still hazy, drifts across the room and finally lands on you. The bottle starts to slip from his slack grip.