SOBER. Robert && tattoos.
I like to think that Rob has always been sort of reckless with his body. If he wants to so something, he will do it, even if it were against others’ better judgement. This goes with inking his body as well. He has a multitude of tattoos– the majority of them on his arms, mainly surrounding his biceps. Though he has two that are the most prominent to him: the cultist symbol on his left hand, and a back mural.
Both tattoos date back to approximately the late nineties/early 2000’s. Robert detests the one on his hand; linking it back to long-repressed memories and ‘hatred’ for Joseph, though he doesn’t have the fundings or heart to actually get it removed.
The back mural is rather tacky and large; reaching from his shoulder blades to the small of his back. It’s a wolf on a cliffside howling at the moon. Yup. And he loves that damn thing; having tens of hours and thousands of dollars put into each and every detail and its coloring. Robert is very attached, having a positive connection ( and a lack of taste ) to it and is likely to get defensive if someone negatively comments on it.
He has a few others but I’ll get more into them later, as they’re more meaningless or silly.
she knew this would be awkward, but somehow it’s worse than she imagined. they’re just kind of staring each other down, the room completely silent. she reached out to him, and he’d invited her to stay with him for the weekend. it was hard to get off work, but…it was her dad.
‘ hey, dad. how’ve you been, huh? ’
Fuck. FUCK. this was more uncomfortable than he ever could of expected it to be. Nonetheless, Robert had wanted this more than anything– his daughter LEAVING him when she had tore Robert apart from the inside out, ate him ALIVE for the years she had been gone. But now she was here in his living room, haphazardly tidied within the hour before she was expected to arrive.
Val was just as beautiful as he’d remembered; hosting a striking resemblance to her mother. ❝Been– been managing, kiddo,❞ this was how parents talked to their kids, right? Perhaps he should of been paying more attention at the barbecues, listen in on how the other parents talked to their OWN young. ❝Your business holding up good?❞
It is with GREAT sadness pooling in his sapphire hues, that he regards the whisky glass held betwixt sun-kissed fingers as one would an old enemy. He can sense the cracks beginning to form along his porcelain complexion–like a doll that’s been dropped on its head at the hand of those CAUSTIC words.
‘ Please, neighbour, I’m only being hospitable. There’s no need to be so aggressive…have you…have you tried the cupcakes yet? I made them myself.’
❝And if I said no?❞ by this point, Robert was just testing the minister’s patience, seeing how far he could push Joseph before his facade cracked. The cupcakes did look quite delicious, though… Perhaps he could help himself to one once Joseph had the gall to turn his back ( Not that he couldn’t just eat one right in front of the other, but that would RUIN his spiteful composition ).
❝And NEIGHBOUR–don’t call me that. Don’t call me anything. Don’t even look at me. Your politeness is tiring. So go do the world a favor and go grab the fire cracker that Ernest chucked in your recycling bin.❞
