Post by DESTERY ISAIAH XENAS on Aug 2, 2013 16:30:10 GMT -8
| [atrb=style,width: 420px; background-color: efefef; background-image: url(http://24.media.tumblr.com/0478144b9f16c95a37367d1aca56b45c/tumblr_mkfax8tDxp1s97ldco1_500.png); padding: 5px, bTable] DESTERY I. XENAS 21 | HETEROSEXUAL | DRIFTER/MECHANIC | VISITOR | ANDY BIERSACK THE INTERVIEW WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? SIT DOWN. "A bit impatient," he notes in his deep and gravelly voice. Blue eyes roll while he grabs the back of the chair, spinning it around and straddling it in a series of quick and swift movements. Chains from his belt clink against the metal chair legs and his arms cross on top of the back of the chair, resting his chin on his arms while watching you with a cold, hard stare. "There, happy now?" He seems bored and uninterested. WHAT, DO YOU NEVER HAVE A DATE? STOP STARING AT ME LIKE THAT. A brow raises and he gives you an "are you dumb?" kind of expression. "The fuck do dates have to do with my staring?" he questions in mild irritation. An exasperated sigh escaped him but he doesn't cease his staring and continues to watch with a steady gaze. After a moment of silence he decides he might as well entertain you if he's going to be forced to answer stupid questions. "I don't date. I'm not a fan of relationships. I don't have enough motivation to entertain another person; I have a difficult enough time keeping myself and my brother entertained. I'd rather just stick to having no strings involved when it comes to me and women." He's been accused of having commitment issues but he doesn't see that as the truth. He doesn't fear commitment, he's just too lazy to put the effort forward. Not to mention too much of an asshole for women to stick around very long. "Pretty sure my longest relationship lasted three months and the bitch couldn't even tell me and my brother apart so it wasn't worth the effort." He takes a second to comb his fingers through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead. "I'm into easy girls, long legs, a nice tan--none of that fake orange shit--and green eyes. Exotic girls. Mixed race girls. Mostly just the easy ones, though." Class act, Destery. WHATEVER. WHAT QUALITIES DO YOU LOOK FOR IN OTHER PEOPLE? He shrugs. "Depends on who the person is, I guess," he begins with. "When it comes to women all I look for is someone who looks good and doesn't stick around." Which he's already made rather obvious, but just in case you needed a reminder it was there. "As far as everyone else goes...I don't have very many requirements. Don't talk too much, don't be bubbly and perky, don't be vapid and shallow, don't be a dumbass. Sadly, that makes up about ninety-nine percent of the population so I don't really like most people. I just kind of tolerate them because there isn't much else to do." He didn't need anyone else, anyways. Emotional connections and friendship just weren't his cup of tea so he didn't bother any more. He barely even enjoyed the company of his brother most of the time, let alone the company of someone else. Destery's only values involved making sure him and his brother survived and making sure that they always stayed on top. His moral compass is a bit broken, pointing him in the direction of lying, cheating, cruelty and criminal activity. HOW MISS AMERICA OF YOU. I SUPPOSE YOU VOLUNTEER EXCESSIVELY, TOO? He shrugs again, still staring and scarcely breaking contact. "Sure, I wouldn't be opposed." Not very, he'd be more likely to volunteer to shove you down a flight of stairs. Mind you, those outside of his small circle wouldn't be surprised if they saw Destery volunteering at an animal shelter, his reputation with those he wasn't very close with as a rather charismatic young man with a tendency to curse too much. "I work as a mechanic, work on cars." And steal parts from them while he's at it. "Cars and music take up a big part of my time. Play video games with my brother, the violent ones, but he usually wins. I'm a comic book fan, obviously, and I've been to a few conventions before." As if that wasn't obvious by the tattoos on his arm. YOU ACTUALLY LIKE THAT STUFF? DARE I ASK YOU ABOUT YOUR CHILDHOOD? His upbringing has never been that much of a secret. Destery saw no point in hiding where he'd come from and how he'd been made into who he was today. "We--my brother and myself--grew up in Culpeper, Virginia. This little piece of shit town. We were born on Halloween and I doubt it was all that exciting for our parents. Two more mouths to feed while living in a trailer. Our mom was unemployed and our dad was in this piece of shit rock band. He used to say he'd be famous one day, but they had no rhythm or talent. There was a brief period of time when I thought his band was cool but I smartened up after that." He stops to shift his arms around a bit and then continues. "We didn't really have much. Four people crammed into one small trailer got strenuous. Our dad's temper was short and he took it out on us a lot. Took it out on our mom too, but she only put up with it until we were thirteen and then she was gone. No note, no call. Just gone. Can't say I blame her though." His tone is flat while he speaks, seeming almost disconnected from everything he'd been through. "We weren't the smartest students. We weren't the best behaved students. Teachers hated us. Parents warned their kids not to hang out with us. We were 'trailer trash' and 'bad influences' or something. I--well, we--got into fights a lot and weren't exactly model citizens, especially after our mom left. I'm surprised I never got expelled, to be honest. When we were sixteen Dexter got sent to juvie for two years and through those two years I was in and out. I was never there for very long, just a few months, but I kept getting sent back." On purpose, because someone had to look after his brother. And being in the trailer with just him and their dad wasn't something he looked forward to. "As soon as we hit eighteen and he was out of juvie we left Culpeper and alas, we find ourselves here." He didn't ever finish high school but he didn't see the point. THAT'S IT? NO SKELETONS IN YOUR CLOSET OR ANYTHING? His eyes narrow, the gaze he's had on you never faltering once through the entire conversation. "No, just clothes. Skeletons go in cemeteries." He's not about to divulge secrets to a stranger, especially when his could get him jail time. His trust for people is almost non-existent and he certainly doesn't trust you with his secret. The secret? Him and his brother are street racers, Dester himself participating in both legal and illegal street races. Destery often steals engine parts from the cars he works on in order to improve his own car. He's also not against cheating to help his brother win if the race is cutting it close. When it comes to the illegal racing he plays as dirty as he can without getting caught. So yes, he's seriously injured people before. EH, I'VE HEARD WORSE. IS IT GOING TO INTERFERE WITH YOUR TIME IN BRUNSWICK? "Well, considering we don't plan on staying for very long no, not likely," he states rather obviously. Him and Dexter didn't really plan things. They weren't the type to really think ahead when it came to their lives and their futures. Destery only had one goal and that was to stay alive as long as possible. Live fast, leave a good looking corpse. Those were his only aspirations outside of street racing and continuing to win. Though lately he's wanted to get into breeding pythons. IF ALL ELSE FAILS, I'M SURE YOU HAVE A RELATIVE'S BASEMENT YOU CAN LIVE IN. His eyes roll again. "No, not really." There was no real point in buttering it up. His mother had left when he was thirteen and he hadn't heard a word of her since. And he didn't really want to hear from her either. He left his father behind years ago with no desire of ever having to interact with the man again. There was a high chance his father was dead by now anyways. No extended family either, just him and his brother. Destery and Dexter, a pair of identical twins who seemed to taunt and insult each other more than they got along. It was their way of being affectionate, he supposed, because he rarely meant the cruel things he said to his brother. They looked out for each other and themselves and that was about it. ALRIGHT. THAT'S IT. SHUT THE DOOR ON YOUR WAY OUT, WON'T YOU? He raises from the chair and doesn't bother turning it back around, letting the door slam on his way out. BEHIND THE MASK SETH | 24 | EST | DON'T REMEMER | ABEL AND A.J.  |
