solitaire (y?) [OPEN]

[Milo Hope Castillian]

He was used to hustle. He was used to bustle. Milo was honestly used to everything besides sitting still. The creature happened to have a pair of hands that wanted nothing more than to move... move... move. All the time. If there was one thing you could count on with Milo, it was that he wouldn't be found doing nothing.

There was always something. Today? Well, he'd been in the coffee shop since around 10:30. He hadn't slept well the night before, something about the fact that there was so much darkness out here. He wasn't scared, not quite. Not that he'd admit. The creature thrived on the neon lights, and with out them... well, Milo was starting to feel empty. His world had been washed of all its colors.

He still had red and black. Four empty coffee cups had been cleared away from the area round his elbows, all of them extra large French vanilla with milk and sugar. The creature was caffeinated and it was going on noon, his hands still moving. The man was sitting and playing solitaire, mind working at a breakneck speed. There was nothing more that he liked over the feeling of battered playing cards between his fingers, a purpose in his head that was only to create and destroy, to live by strategy's rules... and make up his own. Shaggy blonde hair hangs in his face, a wild look in his stormy eyes. Milo knows damn well what he's doing and he's focused.

click

[paris moreau blanc]

Paris hummed as he wandered across the grounds slowly, headphones in his ears. He was in a predicament, trying to decide what to do about his family. After all, a missing England prince did nobody any good. If anything, he wondered if he was safe out here, coming out as gay. Nobody knew who he was except maybe the staff. He didn't have girls looking at him googly eyed everywhere he went. Could he get away with a different life here? But there were still the newspapers of outside life, still those chances of somebidy getting a recent tidbit, recognizing the face, the name. Hell, Paris wasn't about to change his name or looks or attitude, that was for sure.

His recent flirting with a male had already probably hinted he wasn't such a straight noodle after all. But that person had outside contacts. That was a person who could figure it out.
Eyes did a quick scan as he sauntered into the coffee shop, hands jammed in his pockets, content after scaring a group of obnoxious teen girls with a few tricks of shadows.
He smirked when he spotted the male playing cards. Familiar turf by far. Gambling was something Paris could say he could handle rather well.
And, well..the kid was cute.
He ordered a drink, then leaned up against the wall.
"Oi.. Another drink on the house?" The thick-accented Englishman drawled, tilting his head to the side. "Cards are much more fun when it's competition, are they not?"

[Milo Hope Castillian]

Milo has a way of wrapping himself up in his games. It was how he could pass four hours in a casino and felt like 20 minutes. The man could make the world slow down just to let him play. Hell, if music be the food of love play on. What were cards? Food of... food of entertainment? Well, Milo could live off sitting and playing for the rest of his life if that counted for anything.

But he's used for someone trying to talk to him in the middle of a game. Hell, that's what every casino on the strip was for. He'd broken some noses, guys coming on too strong... he'd forcefully shoo away waitresses-- drinking and gambling was unwise. "Don't you mean on you?" There's a certain confidence that Milo seems to get when he's got a deck of cards dancing beneath his hands. A small smile plays across the man's lips, eyes finally flicking away from his hands to study the man who'd spoken. "It's the way it's meant to be, yeah. What's your game, stranger?" The words are gentle, musical. Milo can't help but smile softly, biting his lip.

[paris moreau blanc]

Paris couldn't help but chuckle at the bold comment from the younger male. "Yes, on me," He drawled, waving at the barista. "Another of whatever he has been ordering."
He drew a chair out with his foot and sat down on it backwards, crossing his arms over the back rest.
The boy's smile tugged forth one of his own and he tilted his head, eyes dancing across the male's face.
"Ehm, games you might know best, yes?" He chuckled. Paris knew a few that American's might not be most familiar with. "Blackjack, and form of poker, your name it, I'm not new."

[Milo Hope Castillian]

At the blank look from the man at the counter Milo rolled his eyes. He'd only been ordering all morning... whatever. "Extra large French vanilla, milk and sugar, double shot espresso with whipped cream." the young man polished off the last dregs of his most recent cup, condensing and shuffling the deck. No way in hell was he turning down coffee and this guy was wicked cute. Just his type too-- blonde, handsome, and from what he could tell, a nice body. The accent was just bonus points. 

"Challenger's choice, but I've been the best card counter on the Vegas strip since I was 14." Milo grins softly, eyes dancing over the young man's face. His grin is gentle, nearly shy as his eyes drop back to his hands. The Las Vegas man finds himself uncharacteristically intimidated by  the creature, peeking through his long bangs. 

[paris moreau blanc]

Paris chuckled, running a hand through his hair before taking a sip of coffee. He slipped from the chair to retrieve the young man's, handing it over. "Shy are we?" He searched his face, an eyebrow cocked curiously before he patted the boy's shoulder and took his seat again, thinking over their game choices. "We'll go five card." He breathed finally, leaning back after taking his backward position once more.
A grin.
"Yeah, but that's in America, hm?" Another crooked grin and Paris' laugh danced through the cozy coffee shop. He wasn't so sure about flaunting royalty, but it was oh so tempting....
Hell, why not? The guy wouldn't care. Hopefully keep his mouth shut, right? He couldn't resist....
"Now, the prince of England might be a different story, no?"

[Milo Hope Castillian]

The young man couldn't help but feel a slight heat dance across his cheeks, shaking his bangs to hide further. "I can be when I want." There's a grin to the way he's speaking, a warmth that fills his speech. Milo can't help but settle into his seat, sipping his coffee.

"You dealing or m-- wait, no shit." The mention of royalty brings Milo's head cocking to the side, tapping his tongue ring against his teeth. An eyebrow quirks, a snort of a laugh. "Cute and blond doesn't mean gullible, love."

[paris moreau blanc]

Another grin curled Paris' lips, broadened his face. There was the reaction he had been looking for. "What, do I need to pull up proof?"
He tugged his phone from his pocket as he hummed to himself, scrolling through pictures slowly.
"A-ha.." Flipping the phone around, he showed him his family dressed for a party, a banner behind them labeled 'Blanc Palace Royal'.
"You can't say that's not enough. If they didn't have all outer internet blocked, I might actually be able to offer better proof."
A tilt of the head, gentle smile. "They've taken kidnapping Princes to a whole new level now, haven't they?"

[Milo Hope Castillian]

Milo can't help but find himself curious. With lazy pianist's fingers the man pulls his bangs from his face, peering at the picture for a moment. As if for show he studies the Englishman intensely for a moment before nodding. "And you're a Blanc, I'm assuming?" Milo continues to openly gaze at the man's face, bright eyes gentle.

He can't help but fall into that glorious smile. This man had a nice face and he could appreciate that. A sweet guy to boot... Milo was inwardly hesitant. Usually there was something wrong with the ones like this... hell. He was from Vegas. Trust no one, after all. Still... This one was intoxicating. "I didn't know there was a level for kidnapping princes to start with." An eyebrow raises softly as Milo takes a sip of his coffee.

[paris moreau blanc]

"I would hope so, otherwise I have been mistaken my entire life." Paris laughed. He understood it was hard to believe. And if this male chose not to, he wouldn't try and influence him otherwise. Best keep it under tabs, right? Like his sexuality? Oh, that... right.
"Mm, I didn't either. But being put in a place like this isn't exactly the American welcome I was hoping for. After all, I rode out here on a lie already."
Fingers danced across the table to retrieve his phone, and Paris shrugged.
"The biggest surprises are the one's you never want to believe, hm? I've had plenty." Inlcuding being told he had to find a woman to marry. Or finding out after innocent fun that he was attracted to men. Surely his family couldn't find out about that, oh no.

[Milo Hope Castillian]

Milo's gaydar isn't known for being all that correct (then again, you add enough alcohol to anything and it'll start malfunctioning) but he's pretty sure a random nice looking dude with the good sense to buy him coffee might want in his pants. It doesn't matter too much... if things looked like they were going too far too fast he'd throw the breaks on. Whatever. He's used to it. Hello. Vegas. "Well then, prince charming, got anything else to call yourself?" it's not until after he's said it that Milo realizes he sounds like a dork.

Milo watches the young man carefully. He can't help it, still wanting to watch openly. Still, he goes back to hiding behind his bangs and sipping his coffee. "Welcome to America, now you no longer need to wonder why the rest of the world hates us." The young man chuckles softly, a grin on his lips.

[paris moreau blanc]

Paris smiled. His name probably wasn't much better. "Paris," He murmured. "And you might be...?"
He shifted his weight, leaning his chest against the backrest of the seat as he sipped slowly at his coffee. He chuckled when the younger male spoke again. "what a friendly welcome," He teased, their planned game of cards momentarily forgotten. This was much more fun.

[Milo Hope Castillian]

"Someone must have had a sense of humor." The younger man, with his darting eyes and careless hair, chuckles softly. French capital, English prince... he'd met a lot of people, and honestly shaking hands with Dolly Parton had been more like meeting royalty. It might be because of that, that the young man was mentally drifting towards thoughts of kissing the creature's full lips... god damn he was attractive. 

"Milo." The young man reached out to shake Paris' hand, grinning. He's got broad, strong hands and a good shake...gambler's son with a charming smile. "So what'd you wind up with?" He can't help but ask, needs to know. Something about morbid curiosity kicks in. 

[paris moreau blanc]

"Cute." A dancing laugh and he shook the young man's hand firmly, coiling back again lazily after he had done so. 'Keep in check..' He reminded himself somewhat sorrowfully. 'You're supposed to be straight, remember?' But he didn't want to remember, because he was so far from straight... And this male was damn attractive. He was going to get himself in trouble. But then again, who outside of here would find out?
"Mm, Shadow Manipulation..and a bit of trouble with the staff." He smirked. The first week here, the bag of blood on the operating table.. Perhaps not the smartest choice. But Paris was always one for getting himself into trouble.

[Milo Hope Castillian]

"So I've been told." The creature finds his bangs falling forward again, and he's thankful for that. There's a bright blush playing on his cheeks, coloring them rosy. Milo toys with his lip ring briefly, a bad habit. It's the little things that keep his hands busy when he's trying so hard to... to what? Hell, he hadn't flirted like this in a long time. "Oh? Smooth, pretty boy." His chuckle is soft, a hand raking through his hair. Always moving, always shifting, Milo is. The attention span on this one isn't always that great, but Paris has done a damn good job capturing it.