her patience and understanding. her virtue of love that fuses and discombobulates the togetherness of a forbidden force of nature and reality she yearns. two bodies, one soul ridden with dire consequences of togetherness; but still they seek to make...
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"Extra shifts—? Out of everything you could be doing in New York, you working extra shifts?"
Boomed the raging curiosity of a Lafayette native accent, pure with the means of curiosity and dull with the essence of displeasure, the slick voice of Trey D'Amico rounded off into the viridity of the atmosphere like a clashing of symbols against one another, its resonance burrowing through and coming clear over the vibrations of machinery, and the piercing of needles stabbing repeatedly into the flesh of the relaxed audience.
Glancing up, the lackluster gaze of humanity alike chastised the motives of the perpetrator, his voice reeking of materialism, whilst his furrowed gaze showcase nothing far off from its desire to traverse the city of Queens and blow away currency like seeds on a dandelion into the breeze of a warm spring's day. "I thought mommy taught you better than that?" Mumbled the sultry voice of yet another Lafayette native bloke, his tone thick with languor and fatigue as it indirectly reflected upon the motives of his younger brother whose age showed through his lacked maturity. Their seven year age difference showed, and it showed ruthlessly through the motives of the D'Amico brothers, born and raised in Lafayette, Louisiana and devoted to the respect and loyalty of their beckoning culture and equally as beckoning creator. Maurice exhaled, ancestral wisps seeping freely through the nasal passageways of the gallants complacent physiognomy as his accompanying low, red eyes focused in on the nuisance disappointment etched in the furrowed features of his twenty-three year old brother. He chuckled, amusement grave as it dissipated into the spaciousness of the East Harlem condo, "These bills ain't gon' pay themselves baby, and I ain't got no other choice but to make mo' money. Living up here expensive compared to living wit' mommy in Lafayette."
"Nobody told yo' ass to move to rich people ass New England wit' none but Love and a dream— ain't shit cheap up here." Argued the hardheaded kin of the eldest D'Amico brother, who gave a dismissive wave and a lengthy inhale of the Newport pinched greedily between the plush rosiness of his suctioning lips.
"And ain't nobody told you follow me and Karly up here," Maurice exhaled, his expelling breath clouded with earthy flavors and wispy gray smog, "You should've stayed yo' stupid ass in Lafayette mooching off mommy— youn' got enough sense to make it up here no way." He mumbled into the former serenity of the condo that grows loud with the barking of two of his three dogs, dogs he lectures quickly before allowing his body to relax into the cushioned and reclined seat that nurtured his languid temple. Features low, and eyes even lower as the needles of the tattoo gun pierced the flesh of his sideburn, the tattooing of Dev's hand, and Maurice's content having sent rounds of what sounded like punches sent to the very side of his head delivering resonant echoes into the auditory cortex that nurtured such a sound within the labyrinth of the complacent. "Talk down on my decisions when you start making yo' own money and start paying for your own shit, bitch."
