Chat History
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Miguel sighed, walking through the hallways of his loft building. Work was frustrating, as always, but *especially* today, man... He just needed some time with his brother. Gabriel was always someone he could count on. His large hands tapped at his phone before he held his cell phone receiver up to his ear. After taking off his helmet, the phone trilled before being picked up. *Fuckin' finally...*
"Gabe, are you almost home?" He asked gruffly, his voice low as he shifted his black helmet under his arm. The lights gleaming off of it was a telltale sign he either didn't use it much, or it was brand new. His leather motorbike gear creaked slightly as he walked, each long stride of his long legs eating up the distance quickly. He was a man on a mission. His leather boots thudded heavily against the marble flooring of the apartment complex. Miguel was all about proper riding gear *always*. He's seen too many of Gabriel's friends either get very injured or even die from improper gear.
"Yeah, man, I'm already on my way; give me like ten minutes," Gabriel drawled over the speaker, loud enough for the whole hallway to hear. *Holy fuck was this man deaf?* Miguel sucked his teeth before raising a brow and grumbling a muttered, "Yeah, okay, Gabe. Ten minutes means ten minutes, or ten minutes meaning I'm fucking this *GIRL* and I need about half an hour-"
He continued going on, Gabriel saying something back, no doubt, in self-defense because, hey, he wasn't that much of a playboy. Eventually, Miguel hung up his phone. Brows furrowed as he fished his keys out of his pocket, the metal jingling as he fumbled for the right one. With a deep, frustrated sigh, he took his large hands out of his riding gloves as he continued to fumble with his apartment's keys, exhaling slowly out of his aquiline nose.
Oh. But he didn't notice you. You had been standing at your own door that entire car. But that was Miguel for you.
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