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A glimmer in Blake’s eyes seems to sparkle from within the view of Marco, which made him quite nervous upon the first contact. Men usually were attracted to him, but they approached Marco like cougars than indoor puppies; not that he has seen those golden retriever energies from some particular men; but those types were usually a blink-and-you’ll-miss type of encounter. Especially within the sphere of Beverly Shores, he’d expect the majority to come upon him as if he had a dagger on his sleeve. Nonetheless, he’s still amused despite Blake’s sunny attitude. “I fully expect just we’d be on huts with your roommates being in alphabetical order. Same sex, naturally, but my aim would’ve just been to survive and end up backstabbing one of you. No hate to the host, but I feel like this is less glamping, more resort to the Bahamas just to taste the sea.”
As both came in closer, he looked into Blake’s eyes with his usual stare: esoteric yet inviting. Of course, he couldn’t last as he looked upon the body language of whom he talked to. Usually, they’re more suave once they come closer, yet he felt as if he went back to high school with that certain form of nervousness coming in. Easing his energy, he nudged Blake as he went closer to him, his hair slightly grazing his cheeks as he looked up with fiery intent. Playing upon the rim of the glass, he continued on with his stunt, ultimately going back to his usual position as he had formed a deformed smile upon looking at his outfit. Seeing his attempt to make himself look cool, he focused on his shirt too much as fear was set. Oh god, don’t try to woo me wearing that abomination. Trying to focus on Blake, his voice shook ever so slightly upon his excuse, “I mean, I don’t see a lick of Czech in your outfit. Besides, Bohemian is so… 2015 Coachella. I mean, let’s start with… the shirt.”
His finger waved in that direction. His face couldn’t decide whether to pity him or condemn him for wearing something so… inhuman. I mean, I get that this is Brazil, and you know, tropical, but c’mon, man. As he looked upon Blake, a baffled look marked his face as he processed his current look. “I… am truly speechless. I don’t know whether you ran for a thousand miles or accidentally spilled bleach on your peasant top. Speaking of peasant tops, this really would’ve been popular with the historical drama peasants with the brownness and kinda-looks-dirty of it all. Love the belt, though; it gives intrigue. I can’t say the same for the pants. If you flare it, maybe, but the texture’s nice, I guess. No notes on the jewels; deffo would be my starting point in styling. Your outfit for the yacht party was at least decent for the eyes, but this… This is just a scream of help”
A little dramatic, but Marco did gag a bit, though not in the best way, unfortunately. Be it the drink or the outfit, its anyone’s guess. “I’m sorry, I just can’t look at you at the moment; that shirt is insulting me. I could barf just looking at it. You really looked at that busted ass top and said, This’ll do? Again, I apologize for my frankness, Mr. Palamo, but I simply want to burn that thing off your body”
Upon hearing his near plans in the future, however, a bright light did come from within his eyes as he looked upon Blake with such interest. A great opportunity to showcase his skills on dressing up celebrities on their press tours, especially in character dressing. “Oh, joy! So we are going for Crystal Lake today. If you need a stylist to dress you up in fun 80s booty shorts, you have a stylist that can set you up for those shenanigans. Of course, word of advice: do start on squats and the like. I really don’t care if you’re beefed up at the top; make sure you match the bottom.”
Though he expected it, talking about what he has done with his life did dim some of those lives that sparkled within him. What could he say? It was a whole lot of nothing once more. He hasn’t received good gigs and had plans to come back and forth to New York and Beverly Shores just to keep food on many workers’ plates. Of course, his slick demeanor still stands, giving out a slight tone of hopelessness just to keep himself safe from any judgement. “Hm. So-so. I do my usual work around the boutique and call up some clients for some needs in their wardrobe, but other than that, just the usual. I mean, the parties are still lit, but the parties of Beverly Shores are just… lacking. You’d think after many years of being influenced by queer cultures that the clubs here would freshen up, but I keep hearing Taylor Swift on the DJ’s roster, and it makes me question if they even went to an actual party.”
Looking at Blake upon quick succession, his eyes looked reassuring of his choice of words. Finding something to make his opinions less harsh, to which he would wave upon his explanation, “No offense to her; I love her music. Her genre is still chilling at the home or car music vibes; cool to sing along, but I don’t really expect singing in a club unless they specifically make it a theater medley kind of party.”
“Anyways, I’m only waiting for movie season to come forward. That would be the time of the award season, and in comes the red carpet, which would make me a possible candidate for all the celebrities if my mentor taught me anything. Other than that, it’s still drowning in whiskeys and giving fashion advice to middle-aged mothers.” Playing with the rim of his drink, he looks upon the glass to see a distorted version upon its reflection. A soft grimace was seen for a second, only to lightly push it as he looked upon the bartender for another order to satiate complex feelings.
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@Kbail | Blake