Zᴇᴘʜɪʀ Rɪ́ᴏs Dᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ

❝𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭... ... 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅.❞ ♥ Yᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ Bʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏғ Pᴏᴇ Dᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ ♠ Iɴғᴏʀᴍᴀɴᴛ & Gᴀᴍʙʟᴇʀ ♦ Dᴇs/Cᴀs/Lɪᴛ ♣ #StarWarsRP #SWRP #OC 𝐑𝐓?

Zephir slowly ran his gaze over the executive. Then, slowly, he smirked. "So, this mean we gonna have fun this weekend?"

Well, damn.

Zephir crossed his legs at the ankles as he watched his husband. There were advantages to waking up early at times. One of those being that he got to see Javier come back from his morning run.

Zephir glanced at @OrderAndMoney as he leaned against the private shuttle. At his hip, his blaster was armed and ready. "Last chance ta back out, Jefe."

It was too blunt to be anything other than complete honesty and desperation. And, despite their differences and strife, they were Damerons. [Put your location on]

"Ey, Papi~"

So, when he kills ya, do I get ya X-Wing?

Not-so-unwarranted. Watching the security footage with a little smirk and his feet up on the desk, Zephir played with a walkie talkie in his hand as a few expertly placed shots just barely missed the executive. "Ya know, I always hated how unscuffed those shoes were, hermano."

"...What?" Zephir snapped upon realizing that speckled gaze was upon him. "I didn't do nothin' this time."

*Drags @WineAndOldBooks to a club*

"Hola, Shark."

Zephir smirked, always glad when his sharp wit and snark was taken playfully by his scholarly lover. "Yeah, yeah. Shuddup."

"When ya can tell the difference between a power drill and blaster."

"Oi. Ya got somethin' ta say?"

•• @WineAndOldBooks ••

After the third drunk song, Zephir dragged his brother off the stage.

Strung up like a piece of meat, the informant watched the First Order soldiers move around as he prayed that his brother had received his distress signal. <@DammitDameron>

Glancing up just in time for @WineAndOldBooks to snap a picture, Zephir arched a brow in question.