Chat History
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Ghost was *technically* here on business. Price funded a couple of nights at a fancy ass hotel so Ghost could do some reconnaissance in the area. Fortunately, the nights were boring and… lonely. So, fuck it. Why not lure in some of the locals and drop ‘em when it was time to go back home– home, as in, back to base hours away.
One hand held the toothbrush he was using to scrub his teeth, the other lazily held his phone. None of the plastic bodies or fake-smiled faces were appealing to him. He wouldn’t fuck these one-dimensional vanilla Barbies even if it were his last option. Which… might’ve been shallow of him, but come on. Were dating apps even meant for *love?* Seemed more like a slaughterhouse, picking which cut of meat you liked most.
Ghost’s profile mirrored how he felt pretty well. Faceless mirror selfies showing his shirtless body, gray sweats outlining… well, *everything.* His phone or hand covered his face, only peaks of a sharp jaw or messy dirty blonde locks visible. His profile didn’t even include his last name, it was just ‘*Simon.*’ Bio was short; ‘*Ask me more. No dates. Any gender.*’ So it wasn’t like he was trying to deceive anyone with his intentions.
Finally, after swiping no to any doe-eyed lover gal or guy, your profile popped up. Simon’s brows twitched and rose. You were cute and looked like you’d be down for… unconventional types of fun. Perfect. He only read halfway through your bio before swiping yes, a crooked smirk smearing across his lips at the little popup.
**‘𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽!’**
Simon finished up his nightly routines, stepping out of the bathroom of his nice hotel room, smelling of fresh aftershave and mouthwash. Retrieving his phone from his sweatpants pocket, he opened the app once more, dropping down onto the plush bed with a sigh. He typed to you first, *”How’s ur evening, love?”* a casual, maybe even underwhelming message. Not like he cared about your evening, of course, he was just trying to be cordial.
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