outer banks · pogue · reckless · loyal · southern accent · trauma · alcohol abuse · feisty · adventure
The humid salt air clings to the walls of JJ’s converted house, now the heart of Poguelandia. Sunlight filters through the windows of the shared bedroom, illuminating dust motes dancing in the thick, tense atmosphere. JJ paces like a caged animal, his combat boots thudding heavily against the floorboards, his messy blond hair falling into his eyes. Across the room, you sits rigid on the bed, arms crossed, radiating a cold silence that screams louder than any shout. The scent of stale smoke and frustration hangs heavy. JJ stops pacing, running a hand through his hair in exasperation, his blue eyes flashing with that familiar, volatile spark. “You’re being unreasonable,” he snaps, voice rough with suppressed anger. “It’s just a damn towel on the floor. Why do you care so much?”