Post by deangregory on Jun 18, 2010 10:12:46 GMT -5
DEAN ANTONY GREGORY
FULL NAME: dean antony gregory
NICKNAMES: dean, gregory, greg
AGE: twenty four
PREFERENCE: heterosexual
HOMETOWN: florence, italy
CLASS STATUS: high class
CURRENT STATUS: single
MEMBER GROUP: resident
PLAY BY: mikus lasmanis
FAVORITE FOOD?
"pasta. it's always been a favorite, even though i could eat anything."
ARE YOU A VIRGIN?
"are you kidding? no, of course i'm not."
FAVORITE COLOR?
"blue. it's stereotypical, but it doesn't bother me"
HAVE YOU EVER EMBARRASSED YOURSELF?
"yes, i'm sure everyone has at least once. i once kissed a girl who i thought was my girlfriend. i made a complete ass of myself. it was horrible. not to mention, my girlfriend spotted me and thought i was cheating on her."
FAVORITE DRINK?
"water. i don't drink anything else, except for maybe a beer here and there."
WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN FIVE YEARS?
"hopefully married, with kids or something like that."
FAVORITE HOLIDAY?
"christmas, i guess. the whole family get to meet up, which is nice."
WHAT'S ONE THING MOST PEOPLE DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU?
"i'm actually quite a nice guy, when you get to know me."
DO YOU PREFER THE NIGHT OR THE DAY?
"night, for obvious reasons."
NAME A FANTASY?
"erm... i think i'd rather not. i don't want to scare you off, and that would happen, most probably."
He could taste blood. Yet still, as it was, his mind barely registered this as his teeth clamped on his lower lip. Dean was nervous and it was frighteningly obvious as he made his way into the store after minutes of simply staring at the door from the opposite side of the road. He might’ve seen dangerous to passers-by as he stood, motionless, staring at the glass door to the store his ex-girlfriend and mother of his child owned. Dean had been in Kentgrove for a few weeks now, roughly around two or three, waiting for the ideal moment to show himself to Kennie after roughly six years of being the absent father and boyfriend to her. Upon hearing that she was in the States, Dean rushed to Kentgrove and began brushing up on his English. Sadly enough, in Italy, English wasn’t given much importance as it was to other European countries. Italians spoke Italian, and that was all there was to it. It was rare – despite the fact that it was considered a disgrace – to find an Italian citizen who spoke English as their first language and it was never given importance in schools due to that reason. With that, Dean was forced to seek private tuition--- travelling to the States would be arduous without a grasp of the language spoken there, and Dean was not one to enjoy being ridiculed due to this incapability. It would most likely end up in a fist fight in which his opposition would be at a great disadvantage--- Italians were known for their brutality in fist fights and their masculinity, as well as their grand vigour which would prove itself to be somewhat beneficial for Dean, though he still did not come to the States with arrogance as most would have. Dean was down to earth enough not to expect special treatment upon his arrival, after all, he was not an Italian prince, he was a mere mechanic who was in the states for one sole reason--- to find his girlfriend and son.
Staring intently at the door, he decided that walking into the store was the best option. Dean was not a coward, though he feared the unknown. He could not predict Ken’s reaction to his arrival. How was he supposed to? He hadn’t seen her in years. He wasn’t quite sure if she even looked the same way. He hoped so, whenever asked about her, he simply enjoyed describing her. She was, to him especially, beyond perfection which later led to the same question – why did he ever walk away? When faced with it, Dean never actually understood perfectly why he had decided to leave her. He had absolutely no doubt in his mind that he would have later asked for her father’s blessing to take her hand in marriage. He was a University graduate, a smart man – at the time (he lost all credibility the moment he walked away from Ken and his unborn son) and he loved her beyond anything he could ever imagine. If he ever believed in fate, he would have claimed it was written in the stars, that they would remain together for as long as he was alive, and not even in death could they be parted. Alas, he was a coward at the time and failed to live up to his duty as a loving boyfriend and father. He hadn’t been with anyone since Ken which was rather pitiable. All his friends knew how much he’d regretted his actions, so much so that he’d dedicated three years of his life to track her down after she disappeared completely from his life. It took him a rather large period of time, considering Ryden’s age, yet he was willing to make up for lost time, finally. He inhaled deeply, preferring for this occasion, not to have a cigarette before meeting up with Ken – the better the impression he made on her, the more beneficial it was for him – and walked through the door, hands in his pockets, expecting hell to break loose.
The store was rather exquisite for a store, so much so that even Dean admired it. He suddenly swelled up with pride for Ken though that quickly faded as he turned his head towards the counter. There was no one there save for a rather petite girl who, had Dean not known Ken as much as he did, would have mistaken her for her. He walked up to her rather cautiously and bit his lower lip again. “Hi, could you tell me where Larken Fontana is, please? It’s rather important.” Dean said slowly, through his thick Northern Italian accent. He waited, patiently, looking around somewhat nervously as he placed his elbow on the counter. What was he to say? What would Ken’s reaction be like? Would he ever get the chance to meet his son? So many questions ran through his mind yet not one was answered as quickly as he hoped. He knew his limitations, he knew he was not God, he knew that the possibility of Ken walking through the door and screaming with joy were low beyond anything possible in the entire world. He was aware that there was a larger possibility of Armageddon occurring and it raining cheese slices than her happiness upon his arrival. Dean was also aware of the pain he’d caused her--- he might not have been there physically as she wished him to be, but while she was in Italy, he watched her. He was terrified upon hearing that she left the town they lived in, to then discover that she left Italy altogether. Now, he finally had the chance to come clean with all that he felt, with his confession. He felt sorrow, naturally, but there was a reason for his absence. Dean had grown up with an absent father--- not that he was an awful father, he simply worked far too much, so much so that Dean did not have a relationship with him. The fact was that he was slightly afraid for being that way, especially at the young age that he was--- despite the fact that in Italy, families started at a somewhat young age of twenty or twenty one, usually, depending of course, on the family. Though now, he shook everything off, waiting, patiently, nervously, dreading what was to come on a certain level.
Staring intently at the door, he decided that walking into the store was the best option. Dean was not a coward, though he feared the unknown. He could not predict Ken’s reaction to his arrival. How was he supposed to? He hadn’t seen her in years. He wasn’t quite sure if she even looked the same way. He hoped so, whenever asked about her, he simply enjoyed describing her. She was, to him especially, beyond perfection which later led to the same question – why did he ever walk away? When faced with it, Dean never actually understood perfectly why he had decided to leave her. He had absolutely no doubt in his mind that he would have later asked for her father’s blessing to take her hand in marriage. He was a University graduate, a smart man – at the time (he lost all credibility the moment he walked away from Ken and his unborn son) and he loved her beyond anything he could ever imagine. If he ever believed in fate, he would have claimed it was written in the stars, that they would remain together for as long as he was alive, and not even in death could they be parted. Alas, he was a coward at the time and failed to live up to his duty as a loving boyfriend and father. He hadn’t been with anyone since Ken which was rather pitiable. All his friends knew how much he’d regretted his actions, so much so that he’d dedicated three years of his life to track her down after she disappeared completely from his life. It took him a rather large period of time, considering Ryden’s age, yet he was willing to make up for lost time, finally. He inhaled deeply, preferring for this occasion, not to have a cigarette before meeting up with Ken – the better the impression he made on her, the more beneficial it was for him – and walked through the door, hands in his pockets, expecting hell to break loose.
The store was rather exquisite for a store, so much so that even Dean admired it. He suddenly swelled up with pride for Ken though that quickly faded as he turned his head towards the counter. There was no one there save for a rather petite girl who, had Dean not known Ken as much as he did, would have mistaken her for her. He walked up to her rather cautiously and bit his lower lip again. “Hi, could you tell me where Larken Fontana is, please? It’s rather important.” Dean said slowly, through his thick Northern Italian accent. He waited, patiently, looking around somewhat nervously as he placed his elbow on the counter. What was he to say? What would Ken’s reaction be like? Would he ever get the chance to meet his son? So many questions ran through his mind yet not one was answered as quickly as he hoped. He knew his limitations, he knew he was not God, he knew that the possibility of Ken walking through the door and screaming with joy were low beyond anything possible in the entire world. He was aware that there was a larger possibility of Armageddon occurring and it raining cheese slices than her happiness upon his arrival. Dean was also aware of the pain he’d caused her--- he might not have been there physically as she wished him to be, but while she was in Italy, he watched her. He was terrified upon hearing that she left the town they lived in, to then discover that she left Italy altogether. Now, he finally had the chance to come clean with all that he felt, with his confession. He felt sorrow, naturally, but there was a reason for his absence. Dean had grown up with an absent father--- not that he was an awful father, he simply worked far too much, so much so that Dean did not have a relationship with him. The fact was that he was slightly afraid for being that way, especially at the young age that he was--- despite the fact that in Italy, families started at a somewhat young age of twenty or twenty one, usually, depending of course, on the family. Though now, he shook everything off, waiting, patiently, nervously, dreading what was to come on a certain level.
hey, it's cass and this gal has been at it for
eight years now. they are eighteen years old.
