Just Some Guy With A Mustache の小説・ストーリー

And show him my glass. "I'm Lucas by the way." he pulls and holds his hand out for a shake. "I'm Courtney," I reply and place my hand in his. He was a really handsome man. He was tall and when I say tall, very tall. He had brown eyes, which were quite intimidating. His hair was styled with some gel. He had a sharp jawline and nose. He had quite a few rings on his fingers. He didn't seem like a normal man. He seemed to be rich. He was wearing a grey suit and from what I know, that was from Dolce & Gabbana. What was he doing here?

a man asked as he sat down at the table. Williamson and Matt blinked a couple of times before they recognized who it was. It was Jacobs. The balding DA, who was usually cleaned shaven, was wearing a fake brown mustache and a long brown-haired wig. “Wow,” Williamson said and started chuckling. “I can say the same to you,” Matt stated with shock. “At least I have a good disguise,” Jacobs snapped. Williamson and Matt burst out laughing. “You look like you got a gerbil on your face,” Matt said as he laughed.

First, I needed to sort out this thing with Alice, for good. After ringing the doorbell again, we waited a little longer before the door finally opened. In front of us stood a tall dark skinned guy with a nicely trimmed beard. His hair was cut short in a buzz cut and he had a 3D sleeve tattoo which was done to perfection. He was only wearing a pair of yellow swimming trunks and no shirt on. "Hello..?"The guy said as he looked between me and Anushka. He had an accent I couldn't quite place.

It was a tall, fine, blonde man with a mustache. "Time up." He said, staring at Rey.

"Mr. Lawson doesn't have a problem with the menu. He's not great with drinks, so I'm drinking for him." However, the guy would not back down. "Who do you think you are? I want to drink with Mr. Lawson, not you." I clenched my fists. Why did some people love to force others to drink? "Mr. Cunningham, you might not know that this is my assistant," Shane said, still smiling. However, James Cunningham was not having any of it. "It doesn't seem right for your assistant to butt in when we're drinking, Mr. Lawson. You should teach your assistant better."

Just like that … man. “There was a man,” I say, trying to pull something useful from my fog. “He acted like the leader, but he wasn’t the boss. Suit, slicked-back dark hair, thin mustache. Forty-something. He had tattoos … a snake and a cross inked on his neck.” “And the barman,” I add quickly. “He looked on edge. I saw him talking to the mustache guy.” “We tried questioning him, but he’s missing,” David says grimly. “We’ll keep looking.”

His hair is in a buzz cut style, full, noticeable eyebrows, long lashes, caramel skin tone, and a clean shave with a little mustache that makes you want to think about bed play. A dance to my favourite song, with an angelic man? I would love that. But who is this man? "May I?" He smiles cutely, ignoring how confused I look. He wouldn't bite. Just a dance, right? This could be just what I need, a dance to lift my mood.

"No, no, I'm not. Just enjoying the beauty of the ocean...alone." The man sat next to him, he obviously didn't get the message. His brown hair swept over his brown forehead, his eyes the color of a raven, they had in them a mesmerizing glow. On his upper lip was a shade of a neatly shaved mustache, he smiled at Harry. "He grunted as he sat, "yes, it's the most beautiful view in the USA. I'm glad I could see this." "Hm-hm." Jackson really hoped he'd leave. This was the only time he had to himself and he saw it get snatched by a random stranger. How unpleasant.

"That’s a lot of beer for just one man. Something wrong?" "Leave me the fuck alone," I grind out, fingers pressing harder against my skull as flashes—more flashes—slice through my mind. Her. Always her. The mustache guy scoffs, reaching for a stool and dragging it closer. "Nice watch you’ve got there," he comments lazily, taking a seat beside me. "You can talk to me. I’m just a stranger, after all." Through the haze of alcohol, I lift my gaze to him. Seeing double.