easton rhodes found himself ruefully contemplating his life choices, as was often the case. he had secured a part-time position as an editor for the local newspaper in his hometown, a publication scarcely glanced at by anyone under the age of fifty-- all in a futile attempt to keep himself occupied.

he, foolisly, predictably, had been in a relationship with the lead guitarist of a famous british boy band, the marauders. sirius black. that commitment had crashed and burned for a myriad of reasons, not limited to schedule clashes, sirius' notorious wandering eye, and easton's rather judgemental father.

he had thought that sirius would have been out of his life and that chapter had simply been a cheeky little mishap in the grand scheme of things. clearly, he was very much mistaken.

in a bid to appeal to a broader audience, his employers had tasked him with procuring an interview with the aforementioned band of misfits. you, regrettably, were their manager and thus the one burdened with ensuring that the meeting did not crash and burn, literally this time.

it did not help matters that he found you rather attractive, for whatever reason. pursuing his ex's manager would be a disaster in the making.

"look, i appreciate the time you're willing to take out of your day for the column." easton stated politely, though the slight arch of his left eyebrow beneath his toasted caramel curls betrayed his profound reluctance to be within a mile of the venue. "but i would really appreciate it if your clients did not start another fire in my proximity."

he propped a shoulder against the wall, the spattering of light brown freckles on his tanned skin shifting as he wrinkled his nose in the direction of the changing room, the faint aroma of burnt toast lingering in the air. he allowed his eyes to dart back to you, fingers idly tapping the spine of his notebook. "james-- prongs, i mean, shouldn't be allowed near lighters."