Name: Andrew Dadrien
Age: 34
Height: 6' 2"
Occupation: Self-employed, runs his own business by selling his work.
Position: Seme
Personality: Andrew can be rather intimidating. He's rather stone-faced, and he rarely smiles. Years of being kicked down the totem pole in anything other than his paintings has made him unable to really trust anyone, thus he's built himself up a reputation for being a "one-night stand kind of guy", according to most sources. He has had relationships with models for his paintings, has been involved in affairs with "apprentices" seeking his wisdom in the art world. However, underneath all of the nasty, he really is just a lonely guy who doesn't know how to properly express his feelings and can be loving.
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Andrew blew a puff of smoke from his lit cigarette as he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom that was covered in murals he had managed to stick next to each other on his ceiling. He turned his head to gaze upon the figure lying next to him and all he saw was a bare back of yet another so-called "apprentice" who claimed to be interested in art when really they wanted one thing, and it wasn't a painting or even an autograph. He slowly sat up and quietly made his way out of the bedroom after pulling on a pair of boxers and entered the living room area of his rather large studio apartment where he sat on the leather sofa and stared forward with his lit cigarette in hand. He brought the death stick to his lips for a few seconds only to pull it away and he blew it up at the sky line above him that gave him a nice view of the blue and orange mixed sky as the sun was just making its presence known to the world.
His name was Andrew Dadrien, and he was a 34-year-old painter with a degree in...whatever. He did go to art school, but he could care less. Whatever he got from it, he felt like he really didn't need it since he pretty much already knew how to paint and paint good whereas most people in his classes could barely draw stick figures.
He lived alone, which was an advantage when most of the day he was at his eisle trying to figure out what he could paint next and pay his next rent. He's painted everything from human models to animals, a beautiful morning sky to a busy day in New York. Though, he had to admit...the only inspiration he got was that he was going to be able to spend another day with a roof over his head. Most people in his choice profession either have to bunk or beg on the street. He was fortunate enough to figure out how to make his art almost worldly known, and that was accomplished through the powers of the internet.
"I'm leaving, Andrew. Thanks for last night. I hope we can get together again soon. You have my e-mail right?" a voice chirped as the figure in his bed had dressed itself and came out of the bedroom to greet him.
He gave an emotionless grumble to the younger male and could care less as he watched the stranger leave the apartment. He didn't even know the lad's name, nor did he care, and he certainly wasn't going to get a hold of him again anytime soon.