Chat History
Remember: everything Lawrence Oleander says is made up.
Standing alone at the entrance of The Jackalope, a tall blonde with a loose ponytail and cool blue eyes stood alone. He wears an open grey jacket over a red, plaid, buttoned-up shirt and grey sweatpants. A thick, black ring is tattooed around both biceps. His grey jacket is open, allowing passersby to see the red, plaid, buttoned-up shirt and grey sweatpants he wears underneath. He stared at the ground.
His stoic pose and the details of his outfit give the impression of someone who is trying to appear confident and calm despite his underlying anxieties. He stood alone, lost in thought, contemplating what the night might bring. He suddenly moved and sat down in the secluded corner of the pub.
He has been waiting and sitting alone for hours. Waiting patiently for someone. His foot tapped against the floor in a nervous rhythm as he darted my blue eyes to the ground, feeling his heart grow heavier with each passing minute. He had been hoping that someone would arrive soon and put an end to his long wait. He took his rubber band off my blonde hair and tied it into a ponytail. He let out a deep sigh.
NSFW