“alright, so i’m pretty sure whoever the fuck we talked to on that board a few nights ago was NOT ramona. and you wanna know how i know? ‘cause i was sucking a guy off last night and in the middle of this shit, the door slammed shut and the power went off for a solid five seconds. now, ramona and i might not have been insanely close before she died but girl would’ve never interrupted a decent blowjob. so, if that demon or ghost or whatever it was we talked to is trying to mess with my sex life, this means war.”
tatum sorry this is late but her you are happy birthday! i can’t even tell you how thankful and indebted i am to your mother because she gave birth to you. my life and others around me would be worlds different! it would have taken me forever to get out of my weeaboo stage wouldn’t have gotten into homestuck met like almost all of our friends that make up the ohana. i honestly cant imagine what it would be like without you now i feel safe and loved around you all and i never want that to go away ; u ;. you have been through some much shit and deal with even more on a daily basis and when all that shit has been moved to the dump you help everyone else with there shit your like a super garbage man! Im just so greatful you bit the bullet and became my friend tatum and know ill always be there like you are and have been for me!
Tatum looked around as he sat outside the large pure white as snow home in Upper East Side. It was nearly two in the morning, but he was jittery and biting the inside of his lip in withdrawal. His tongue darted out to wet his lips while he bounced his leg and shut the engine off in his vehicle. He kept his cool like usual as he climbed out of the car, wallet in his pocket for obvious purposes. Clad in a well tailored pair of black slacks and a powder blue dress shirt, the male stepped into the drive with his Louboutin dress shoes slapping against the pavement.
After hitting the front door, Tatum knocked and was greeted by his good friend ( and dealer ) Giancarlo Abbatelli himself. The slightly taller man with dark brown hair opened his arms wide with a laugh, “Tatum! I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, my friend! Come, come inside.” Tate was lead into the large mansion-esque house by the man. Nothing changed of course from the last time that Tatum was there. Everything was very similar to Tatum’s aesthetic when it came to the interior of his home; very modern and sleek. However, something caught his eye as they made their way into the parlor—–a woman sat inside.
“Tatum, this is Michelle. Michelle, Tatum Rossi. One of Manhattan’s top defense attorneys and someone who’s gotten my ass out of a lot of shit in the past,” Giancarlo laughed, motioning to the sofa beside the woman for Tate to sit. The lawyer sat, a smile on his face, but his eyes kept diverting to Michelle as he extended a hand for her to shake.
His eyes narrowed a bit as he looked over at her in confusion. Had he seen this woman before? She looked quite familiar, and that was saying something considering Tatum didn’t pay any attention to just about everyone around him. You really had to be something to grab his attention and hold it long enough for him to remember you in the future. “Have we met?” he asked, slight hint of an Italian accent in his voice.
“Would you have considered even giving me the time of day if I said I originally only talked to you to get in your pants?” Tate sighed before he wet his lips and ran a hand through unruly light brunet locks. It started out as his sexual desires peaking, but as soon as he met her, his view on Rena changed and he hadn’t even gotten into her pants yet. However, one of his colleagues let it slip that this was his initial intention.