Lieu: Caldwell Penthouse
Interagir avec: Richard King 
Alex et Richard ont fini par passer le reste de la journée à faire le tour de la ville et à rattraper tout en marchant partout. C'était un rafraîchissement très nécessaire pour les deux après ne pas s'être vus pendant si longtemps. C'est surtout Richard qui guidait son ami partout en voyant qu'il avait plus d'expérience avec le centre animé qu'Alex. Bien qu'elle ait vécu à New York pendant sa première année, la jeune fille n'a pas eu beaucoup de chance d'explorer avec l'absence d'une voiture et de vivre sur le campus. La seule fois où elle a quitté le terrain était quand il y avait une fête importante à laquelle elle a été invitée et qu'elle devait prendre un taxi. Après avoir terminé les courses que Richard avait besoin de faire, la blonde a emmené son ami dans un restaurant qu'il connaissait autour de leur appartement pour un déjeuner tardif, tout simplement bavarder le temps loin. En se souvenant de ses projets pour la nuit, il a invité Alex à une fête qu'il allait faire plus tard et est parti avec elle une fois qu'elle a accepté extatiquement et a suggéré qu'ils retournent à l'appartement pour commencer à se préparer.
À leur retour, Jasper n'était pas autour de laquelle Alex pensait momentanément avant de voir ses sacs que Richard avait laissés par la porte alors qu'ils avaient rapidement quitté l'appartement. Décider d'au moins mettre ses vêtements (il l'aiderait aussi à chercher une tenue à porter à la fête), elle a passé un certain temps à le faire avant de se préparer. Dès que les deux ont fini, ils sont partis pour commencer à marcher jusqu'à l'endroit où la fête allait se tenir. Ils n'avaient pas besoin de prendre quoi que ce soit puisque c'était déjà dans la partie la plus agréable de New York où ils vivaient. Alors qu'ils s'y rendaient, King a expliqué à Alex exactement qui était Nick Caldwell et pourquoi cette fête allait être l'une des plus chaudes de cette année.
Une fois arrivés, ils ont dû vérifier avec le videur qui n'avait que le nom de Richards sur la liste. Heureusement, Alex a regardé et a agi comme si elle appartenait à la foule qui était déjà dedans et ils ont finalement été autorisés à entrer ensemble.
La fête du roi était-elle prête? Sûrement. Il se sentait chaud, vêtu d'une flanelle ouverte et d'un jean avec ses cheveux légèrement coupés et ses lèvres goûtant de la fumée de cigarette et du café. Une jolie fille sur un bras et son nom sur la liste n'ont fait qu'accroître sa confiance, permettant à son général éblouissant et moqueur de sourire de se démarquer lourdement contre le reste de la foule. L'ascenseur qui montait au penthouse était étouffant et tirait de bavardage fort que King ignorait en faveur de se fixer dans l'intérieur réfléchissant.
Au moment où les portes ont été ouvertes, King a juré qu'ils devaient être dans l'espace ou quelque chose.
Dieu, c'est comme, quoi... le cinquantième étage? Je parie que je pourrais toucher la lune ou quelque chose comme ça. Bienvenue à la première grande fête de l'année, prête à se faire chier? ─ Il s'est incurvé soudainement, grinçant joyeusement dans le visage de son ami, alors qu'il l'a traînée facilement vers le trou d'arrosage le plus proche.
La brune plus courte à côté de lui s'est moquée et s'est moquée des antiques de son amie. Alors qu'il avait recommandé de boire avant d'arriver à la fête, Alex avait consacré les dernières minutes à ne pas se faire bourdonner sur la bière et de terminer son maquillage. "Richard, tu n'es même pas encore si saoul. Et vous savez que j'adore nos jeux à boire », a-t-elle taquiné alors qu'il les conduisait tous les deux au bar. Après quelques coups de feu, la fille n'a pas pu répondre à quoi que ce soit que son amie disait à propos de qui que ce soit d'autre que de rire. Un autre en bas et Alex n'a pas été accordé à quelque chose autour d'elle en dehors de la musique, quelques-unes des lumières lumineuses, et son grand ami. En prenant la main de Richard, elle lui cria en vain sur les bruits retentissants qui résonnaient dans la pièce pour les avertir qu'ils allaient danser. En les ramenant sur une partie de la piste de danse, les yeux verts se levèrent pour donner à l'autre un regard exalté avant qu'Alex ne commence à laisser son corps bouger comme il le voulait naturellement et avec insouciance.
King a suivi Alex après seulement trois coups parce qu'il avait eu tellement dans une conversation étrange sur l'un des professeurs à uni. Le passage soudain de l'assise à la danse l'a pris par surprise, et Alex's boire rapidement et se tourner plus vite vers la piste de danse était tout, y compris adorable pour King alors qu'il faisait de son mieux pour suivre. Ses deux pieds gauches traînaient désespérément après son ami en léger battement à la musique.
Dieu, Alex, comment pouvez-vous faire cela si bien! ─ Il a crié au-dessus de la basse et de la foule, tendre la main pour saisir son poignet et se rapprocher d'elle. King riait comme des mains et des corps traînés contre lui, les poussant avec quelques éblouissements ludiques derrière lui. Je déteste les planchers de danse, Allycat! Pouvons-nous nous jeter ailleurs?... Bien qu'il ait dit que, cependant, il se berçait les épaules avec fluidité et glissa à travers les espaces ouverts aussi gracieusement qu'il pouvait le faire. Sa lumière de sourire, une pure jouissance et pré-drunkness.
Au-dessus des têtes de danse, bien qu'il ait vu le salut sur le côté de la pièce où beaucoup de sièges ouverts et de tables étaient éparpillés, et parmi eux était un visage familier. Le roi clignait, puis regardait Alex et un autre sourire éclatant pressait contre ses lèvres. Il lui a encore accroché le bras au-dessus d'elle, les conduisant de la piste de danse et vers le visage familier qui était Ava Dawson.
C'est l'Allycat! Je pense que vous avez besoin de se mêler plus et de broyer moins ce soir-- il ya beaucoup de gens intéressants dans cette foule!
Beaucoup de danses d'Alex semblaient être composées d'une forme de saut et de déplacement de la tête de côté ce soir. Je ne sais pas combien de temps elle avait été sur le sol, mais je pense que c'était le meilleur moment de sa vie à ce moment-là, il lui a fallu une minute de plus pour enregistrer que Richard essayait de lui dire quelque chose. -- Quoi?! Elle a rappelé, incapable de déchiffrer ses mots sur le son en plein essor et l'esprit brumeux. Cependant, cette fois, au lieu d'essayer d'être plus fort que la musique, Richard a légèrement attiré son ami dans un coin salon avec de beaux meubles. Dans un premier temps, Alex a ri et s'est emparé du bras de l'autre pour obtenir du soutien. Heureusement, l'homme était assez fort pour ne pas voyager sur le poids supplémentaire soudain. Une fois qu'ils ont réussi à diriger leur chemin vers les chaises, la blonde a doucement assis Alex dans un siège et elle a simplement téléporté vers lui comme elle doucement balancé.
Ici, juste. Dis bonjour à Ava. King lui a donné une pate douce sur la tête, s'étalant avec une accolade du poignet, se réunissant près de l'ascenseur quand la fête commence à s'enrouler, d'accord?Il a crié le reste de ses mots fort sur la musique et, après avoir fait un clin d'œil bref et confiant à la sœur de sa colocataire, il s'est évanoui dans la fête, remuant joyeusement.
D'accord!La brune distrait a chié sur son ami pour l'informer de l'endroit où il allait. En regardant autour des lumières, Alex ne s'est recentré que sur la personne devant elle quand elle s'est inscrite, il s'est assuré d'être entendu. Concentrez-vous... son esprit atroce a essayé de lui communiquer. En regardant Richard à blanc pendant un moment, elle élargit les yeux innocemment et posa les lèvres avant de hurler. En voyant son amie disparaître dans la foule grouillante, Alex tapota ses doigts sur ses cuisses nues et continua à balancer. Puis une pensée l'a frappée et elle a sillonné ses sourcils avant de se cogner la tête et de demander à personne en particulier, Qui Ava?
Of course I’m the best! I’m the K I N G, baby!

║ N A M E ║
Richard Shannon King
║ N I C K N A M E S ║
King - "The name's Richard King, but most just call me King."
Shannon - The rare few who find out King's middle name often turn to it when they wish to inflict some kind of meager social wounds. He doesn't hate the name per say, it's just a bit embarrassing to respond to such a girly title.
Dick - Only his family calls him Dick. He doesn't take kindly to hearing the nickname from anyone else. 
║ B I R T H D A Y ║
July 23, 1996 (20)
Dunsmuir, California
║ G E N D E R / S E X U A L I T Y ║
Male || Bisexual
║ O C C U P A T I O N ║
Student by day, jazz-playing, guitar-toting, open-mic hopping hooligan by night. King's parents (well, mother) send him a small allowance at the end of every month, but that doesn't stop him from going out nightly to play on street corners or in venues offering him a bit of loose change for a three song set. It's enough to keep his pockets and stomach full, plus, he gets to meet so many hot interesting people after he preforms.
║ A P P E A R A N C E ║
Pretty boys are always trouble. Always. Never trust their sly smirks and bright eyes and freckled skin. Ignore their tousled hair and slack stance and oh-so-stupid fashion sense. Pretty boys are always trouble. King is no exception to this rule. He holds an endearment for his own face because it is quite pretty. European influences blessed him with bright eyes, bright hair, and bright (thought easily burned, blemished, and bruised) skin. In reality, King has quite the baby face, with wide eyes and thin lips and just the cutest nose around, but he hides this fact with crucially grown stubble and a jaw gained from his father's side of the family. Days spent working out and a strictly vegetarian diet keeps him trim and healthy, especially in the face area.
King is tall, standing about 6'1" when straight backed and confident. He likes to think he's just the right height, being able to both tower over people as well as meet the eyes of those higher than him with a mere crook of the neck. There is a confidence that comes with loving the way you stand or sit, with loving what you can see while walking through crowds. King experiences that feel more often than not, though there are times where his back can bend in worry and his eyes can only meet the ground. Anxious times, when the world is so small that he can't bare to look above and passed it. And when he experiences these bouts of depression and self-hate, King's normally loud and musical voice is nothing more than a dull whimper.
Graphic tees, flannel, and ripped jeans are the norm for Richard King. He dresses comfortably, but often takes time to plan outfits and see which fit him the best. Narcissism runs through his veins like blood, and as such he takes care in his appearance, even for the most minimalist of occasions. Out on the town with friends? Ripped jeans, work boots, and his favorite flannels are strewn about until a decision is made (usually, three minutes before he is supposed to meet said friends). Formal party? Dude, King has suits for days. Rich kids wear rich things, after all. Fashion is a mere minuscule dot in the things King really focuses on, but when he over thinks and realizes just how hot he could be that day it's the whole world to him. Don't be alarmed if he takes more than half an hour in the bathroom, then. Because that's just how Richard King rolls.
Below all those layers, however, lies King's first secret. Bruises and scars, now old and almost forgotten, run up and down his back like a galaxy. Dead colors, muted purples and greens and blues, stand out against the pale skin. The remnants of abuse. King is said to only fuck around with people at least half-clothed, and all those old scars are the reason why. He hates them, despises them more than anything else in the world, and when he catches a glimpse of his bare back in the mirror he can't help but shiver with rage and distaste and fear. The only past influence he really shows off would be the hideous scar of his left bicep. It has since faded to a white line over the years, but he still gets a bit anxious when people notice and ask about it.


"Time and again boys are raised to be men. Impatient they start, fearful they end."
║ P E R S O N A L I T Y ║
The Positive:

 Romantic - To say Richard King is a hopeless romantic is like saying the sky is blue. It's true as the day, though he isn't as frivolous as those dreamy protagonists. King's romantic efforts are similar to all those drunk frat boys in colleges beyond; vague flirting leading to number getting leading to one night stands. In terms of true romance, however, King considers himself well-versed and enjoys spoiling his dates with flowers, candy, and sweet, sweet words.
 Charitable - He's a douche bag with a heart of gold, what else is there to say? He often wanders the streets of NYC with an eye out for the homeless or needy, ready to offer a dime or a slightly-kind word to them if needed. Even to friends he is very caring and generous, offering housing or a bit of cash if they're in a tight jam. He can't really help this side of him, despite his best wishes to keep such 'weakness' hidden away.
 Cunning - King is not smart in the way other people are smart. In fact, he's kind of an idiot when dealing with his Gen Ed classes, having almost failed his senior year for poor grades in math and science. He is, however, a sly fox in social situations. He thinks on his feet, moving and wondering what his next move should be in perhaps a soccer game, or an improv session, or while chatting to a flirty bartender. He's reckless in a sense that he puts others before himself, but if given the chance to think a plan out he will gladly take the offer and then some. 

The Negative:
 Blunt - "What? People just can't handle the truth!" King considers his loud mouth 'honesty' and his harsh words 'the truth', despite them sometimes being just plain cruel. He's quick to point out someone's bad attitude, hair, face, ect. if they start off on the wrong foot with him. Even his friends aren't safe from his venomous observations, though they are surely toned down to save hurt feelings.
 Truculent - King is quick to anger and even quicker to fight. All that stress from home and his new found college workload comes out in the heat of an argument. In the flinging fists and shouts of agony King sees his life, spread out, leading to failure or an early death, and that just increases his aggression to an impossible amount. Try and stay on his good side, for the sake of everyone, because when King gets mad he stays mad for a good long while.
 Apathetic - That teenage cynicism has yet to leave the college-bound Richard King. When not joking around with friends or jamming out in his room King can be found emotionless, lonesome, and utterly apathetic. He has trouble discerning the emotions of himself and others, and doesn't seem to realize his many unhealthy habits and woes.

What You See:
King is boisterous and asshole-ish. A true blue douche bag to those who don't really, really know him.He brushes new people off with a bat of the eyelash and isn't afraid to talk shit to their face if he doesn't like said person from the start. His flirtatious nature is far from infectious, bordering more on annoying and endless especially when he is drunk. And, oh boy, is he often drunk. He loves a good, awful beer and despite being underage he isn't afraid to let everyone know his enjoyment of drinking. The carnivorous-looking Richard King seems to hold all the confidence an asshole frat boy should, and the only good thing people may see about him at first glance would be his unadulterated love for all things musical.
What I Know:
King is broken. He isn't... right, really. There's something off about him that many of his closer pals seem to notice. He keeps secrets hidden deep within his heart and hides the pain of them all with tiny smiles and glittering, cruel eyes. When around his closest friends he is truly cheery and honest, a generous soul with a harsh tongue and a hideously pessimistic look on the world. He tries to hide the emotions he considers weak, like kindness or sorrow, but really if you catch him in a quiet moment of vulnerability he is soft spoken and emotional.
The rage King feels doesn't seem to come on during stressful situations, instead it's like he's always prepared to scream or fight. His fists clench randomly, full of hidden vigor and venom, and his eyes often sport a dark look of disgust when he thinks no one is looking closely. This stowed rage is just a symptom of his home life, along with slight anxiety and on-off depression. He takes Prozac for all these issues and doesn't let a single soul know, because he is ashamed. 

"Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting." - J.M. Barrie
║ D R E A M S ║
King dreams of making it big as a Jazz musician and songwriter. To hear his songs played to an adoring crowd, to live a happy life with someone else, and to ignore his past, these are all the things he wishes from the rest of his life and then some. King wants to play music forever and ever, no matter the money or fame. He just wants to do something he loves until he dies.
║ F E A R S ║

Storms, thunder and lightning just send him into a fright for some reason. It's probably his dad's fault.
Superstitions and urban legends, mostly due to all those chain mails he got as a kid.
His father, the pig-headed, abusive, disastrous asshole haunts King to this day.
Blood. More of a stressor really, but it still gets his heart pumping and lungs heaving. Again, it's probably his dad's fault.

║ L I K E S ║

People, pretty or not. The fact that he isn't alone in the world is a calming thought to King.
Nature. King has a secret journal where he stamps flowers and shit. It's pretty queer, but also very relaxing.
Music. Any kind of music! All music! Jazz, blues, rock, hip hop, rap... King will listen to anything and love it unironically.
Dogs, the bigger, stronger, friendlier, completely different version of the cat!
Alcohol, especially bitter beers and rums. He loves the feeling of being drunk too.
Rom-coms, secretly. Only a select few know of how he cries every time he watches The Notebook.

║ D I S L I K E S ║

Storms, storm clouds, ect. He can't stand the east coast's rainy season especially.
Being emotional in public, especially around people he likes/hates. There is no need to show off such weakness!
Wishy-washy people. If they can't speak their minds then King has no time for them.
Superstitions, black cats, walking under ladders, face-down pennies, ect.
Talking about his home life, for good reason.
Cold weather. It's both a pain to get through and also has the ability to damage instruments! How awful!

║ H I S T O R Y ║
Richard Shannon King was born in a quaint California town on a sunny, sunny day. His mother, Victoria King, though annoyed she had to give up precious work time to give birth, fell in love with her child the moment he opened his tiny mouth to cry, and stayed as close to him as possible throughout their time in the hospital. His father, Henry King, however, was well aware the child was not and would never be his. Because he wasn't the real father.
Because his wife cheated on him.
Tensions were high in the house as Richard grew into a spoiled young boy. His mother worked often, as mayors usually did, but whenever given a moment to breath she offered him toys and food and thoughts beyond his wildest dreams. Henry didn't take much time to admire the child. Though he was often the man in charge of the house he merely left Richard by himself, opting to instead work on his next novel that may or may not be scraped half way through development. Stress from the book led Henry to booze, and being alone with his bastard son let him shout profanities half way across the large, empty house to infect the poor child.
The first time Henry hit Richard was when he was in seventh grade, and he was caught sneaking alcohol to a friend's house on his bike. His father gave him a massive welt across his left thigh and left him sobbing in his room with only a meager feeling of guilt. Mother remained out of the loop of this abuse, that had suddenly began to continue on, because Henry threatened Richard every time he had a chance to. And Richard, fearful of his own life, and his sister Astrid's life, and his mother's life, stayed dead quiet. Focused on his music (played quietly, so his father had no reason to rush up and smack him about again), focused on his friends, ignored the pain. Ignored it, ignored it, ignored it for five whole years.
When his acceptance letter to The Mortimer School of the Arts came in, Richard was offered a way out and up. The music that so saved him from quiet nights locked away in is room could now lead him to a better, more fulfilling life. A life without his small town teen angst and his stubborn father. So, King ran far, far away from the the west coast. Because music was calling him into an unexplored world and King was ready to leave behind that small town in favor of freedom, smoggy air, and a life without Henry King.


║ S T U D I E S║
Jazz (Major) / Songwriting (Minor)
║ A U D I T I O N ║
King walked into the room feeling quite dreamy from his pills and quite smiley despite the anxiety that plagued his heart. He settled down on the offered chair with his trusty ol' guitar, offered a wild smile, and then went into a trance as he picked through a set consisting of the songs Autumn Leaves, Cocaine Princess, and an original song he wrote called Small Town Rhythm. He left quickly and spent a good hour calming himself down in a bathroom stall.
║ Y E A R ║
First
║ H O M E ║
Upper East Side -- Apartment 2D
║ E X T R A I N F O ║
IM TRASHY AND HAVE A VOICE HEADCANON