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MAVERICK BOVE

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MAVERICK BOVE

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[attr="class","maverickspeaks"]Wayward conclusions to his criminal endeavours was nothing Maverick Bove was a stranger to. In frankness, he grew adjusted to the unpredictability of his occupation and allowed it to carve him into a nasty foe. A criminal capable of thinking on his feet without prompting was resourceful and capable by all regards. A simple meeting suggested sour tones as Maverick's attendance was demanded. While he obeyed the whim of those fools, when the fighting broke out, he was prepared. The thick sense of gunfire as bullets escaped the lips of silenced weapons, it was all familiar to him.

Alas, amidst the crazed crossfire and their enemies being strategically cut down by a well-placed group of spotters who infiltrated the outer wall... things turned dicey. At one point, somebody opened fire on him, his arm victim to the biting sting of a bullet passing through. In the pain, he nearly dropped his weapon, although, whether or not he accomplished the foolish action mattered naught given the man received his dues a mere seconds later. Nonetheless, his injury created a grim, albeit, silent panic around his associates as they hastily fled the scene.

Some cloth was tightly wrapped around his arm as they drove off, everybody fleeing the evening scene like rats. They would flee to the set-up described by Steffan, meanwhile, the manor would be hastily set ablaze. There was quiet discussion through their drive, his workers exchanging words as they narrowed down the location. A few of his associated faced wounds greater than his, the vehicle effectively being used as an "ambulance" for all extensive purposes. People groaned and whined around him as soft shouts of 'Stay with us' echoed inside the vehicle.

They pulled into a nondescript location in the coastal area as described in the directions. Shuffled in with haste were the more injured, Maverick taking up the rear with his meagre arm wound. The unexpected early visit came after the brutal calls of bullet hail. Everybody was organized, and Maverick was escorted to a room in the facility used by the doctor he spoke with in regards to the medical changes. Upon his entry, he was taken to the examination table available inside. He sat upon it, wishing for nothing more, than to light a smoke and lighten the edge.

Perhaps in his injured confused, he failed to notice him or he entered later, but the satisfying snap of a latex glove rang through the retreating footsteps of his colleagues. The dhampir's eyes flitted to him, icy blue hues scanning over the slender twig of a man he was assigned to. Intrigue flared amidst them as he automatically analyzed him as his steps echoed through the silenced room. Through the years, Maverick met his share of attractive people, occasionally acquiring the lustful practice of a one night stand for his enjoyment.

Alas, few met the slender calibre the doctor before him represented. Long legs emphasized by a pair of short shorts drew the dhampir's attention. Those slim thighs followed by thin legs, he enjoyed the sight curiosities filling his mind. As he mentioned cleaning up, Maverick nodded slowly.

"Will say, nobody told me how hot you were though," the godfather mumbled out.

When the man turned away, Maverick observed him, admiring, unaware of the attraction. Carefully, he watched him, not caring if his attractions towards the dark-haired bespectacled man was. Already, his mind lingered on those libidinous thoughts creating those mental pictures, inappropriate in nature. The following words led Maverick to a conclusion, the man in front of him was likely Steffan Dirks, the man he spoke with in regards to the healing.

"I'm assuming you're Steffan, then?" He inquired softly.

A vague mention of the assessment of his remaining men echoed in his ears. Grimly, the godfather nodded at Steffan's words, agreeing with the damages. Wounds were common among the criminal world, especially given his high-standing position in organized crime.

"Yeah, but not many choices," the godfather gave a soft sigh followed by a shrug.

These matters were concerning, however, Maverick accepted the consequences of the actions taken. For now, what mattered was assuring everybody's states of injury improved. His being among the less dire in comparison to his many mob members. Quietly, Maverick awaited for the medical attention he would receive. His eyes observing the man's return to him, admiring the way his hips mode and his body acted. He enjoyed it...

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MAVERICK BOVE

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MAVERICK BOVE

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