The Older Gentleman (Open)

[vernaxys]

Well, he certainly hadn't expected it to come upon him like that.

Nari'a Aldael had willing agreed to sign the paperwork in his very best handwriting, as it were. He supposed that he knew it would come to this, as per the binding agreement, though he hadn't assumed it would be so spontaneous, foolhardy on his part it may have been.

He awoke with a bit of a migraine, groggy and a bit loopy. He must have been getting old, he thought. That or the shit they knocked him out with was strong as hell-- probably the latter. He rose to his feet, ready to dance the dance and step to the motions. He remembers some of the lesser prompts and questions of the interview beforehand. It must have been a few weeks ago, he musters.

If you were a denizen of this universe in any civilized way, shape or form, you probably knew about "The Station". Although Nariv was the kind of man who didn't place much stock in televised networking, even he could not ignore the wild success it had met with since its conception. Those who participated and left afterwards often wished they could return at a later date, most often with a fat stack of cash. If there was anything Nariv enjoyed in the world more than anything, it was power. More often than not, money helped him get there.

It's not as though he wasn't already in the limelight. As a prevalent politician and a retired doctor, he had already endured his fair share of power. But it was never *truly* enough. Signing on as a member of the newest season of "The Station" would net him fortune no doubt, and with how sex-oriented the populace had become over the past century or two, a little bit of scandal would only serve to benefit him in the long run. It was a win-win, really.

He acquired his jewelry, fitting the little silver ring around his finger. A small, off-yellow jewel was set in it, matching the color of his eyes, and he awaited being inevitably shepherded into the living quarters where the rest of the 'entertainers' lived or had been living for some time.

As ever, "The Station" featured new arrivals whenever those with completed cards decided to leave, and when he arrived, he felt a certain pang of regret in his heart. Deep down, he knew it would likely be choresome, though it would certainly benefit him in the long run he believed.

For his first few days on the premises, he spent most of his time to himself, interacting with others in the place with the necessary amount of cordiality as he deemed fit. He spent time studying and using the ring's various functions, checking his funds, learning a little bit about his other housemates, and checking his Card-- Ah yes, the Card.

He taps his head in recollection of that fact. How he could have forgotten it in the first place was another issue entirely. Oh, the wonders and joys of sex. He sighed, closing the console on his ring and looking back to his book. Surprisingly, they had a little bit of everything here as far as reading material went. Inevitably, this topic would bore most; It was a collection of old war strategies of the eastern continents on a dead planet years ago titled, "Earth's Armies of Eld, V.2".

Since he had begun living here, he took to rising early. He knew only generally of the peoples' interests here after perusing some of their profiles. Already, he had been met with the sounds of coupling in this place, which was not unexpected. Often, he rose for the morning before others retired to bed, and as such it was relatively easy for him to monopolize the usage of the kitchen to make breakfast.

For three days, he had spent time tidying the place up, incessantly so. He probably wasn't the most interesting person to watch during his initial time there and he often came and went, flying under everyone else's radar if he could do so. But it would only take so long to be either ousted or noticed and engaged with by others in the living quarters, especially since he had taken to reading in the lobby after preparing breakfast, making coffee for himself (and subsequently any others who might rise at an early hour), and cleaning up anything he deemed untidy. He would not be suffered to live among the squalor of others.

His hair was combed and gelled back behind his two feline ears in a controlled, curly mane. It fell across the sides of his face and upon his shoulders like waves upon a shoreline. Despite the length of his hair, he possessed undoubtedly masculine facial features.

He had sharp yellow eyes, thick kempt brows and a strong browbone. His nose was a bit wide and nostrils flared ever so slightly. There was a bit of age in his face. Very slight crows feet on either sides of his eyes, a few creases on his forehead and deep smile lines. Despite it all, he had little in the way of facial hair, either electing to keep it shaved or simply growing none at all.

His build was both wide and tall, standing at a bit over six feet. He wore an immaculately white pleated shirt with black suspenders and black leather pants with black dress shoes. It would seem the other participants in this program had unwittingly gained a butlery type.

He flipped through the pages, sipping his coffee on occasion, more than happy to enjoy the silence of the morning.