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Played by Gin ➢ Offline
Spouse ➢ Carmen Salzar
Play-by ➢ Dave Gordon
➢ Sharing Play-by
|AGE||JOB||HAIR COLOR||EYE COLOR|
AppearanceStanding at 6'2", Miles is every inch as intimidating as he is tall. Regardless of what he's wearing, his board shoulders tell the story of a man who has spent all of his life keeping in shape and working a job that often calls for nothing less than physical labor. His strong jaw is almost always covered in stubble (lightly peppered with grey, one of the unfortunate traits he gained from his mother), and his face is almost always stoic or scowling. Don't ask him about it. It's just how he always looks.
HistoryMiles Brisbane, one and only child to Noelani and Charles Brisbane, was entirely certain he had a regular, happy life. He mother loved him dearly and his father worker hard in HUD, building and working and sweating every day to make sure his family was cared for properly. It may have been all he could do, but he seemed to enjoy it. Came home every night, kissed his wife, asked his son about school, and this was the routine almost every night. But some nights, his father came in without a word, trailing a dark cloud with him, and retired to his study. His mother was always quick to grab the little boy's arm if he wandered towards that closed door hopefully, and whisper to him in urgent tones. Leave daddy alone, she'd say, he's had a long day at work. Usually, he was too young to pick up on the tense atmosphere, the way his mother seemed to approach the closed door with hesitation before finally knocking. He simply thought that some days daddy was too tired to ask him any questions.
But when he slept he slept heavily, and he never heard his mother utter a noise. And his father was smart enough to hide every bruise he left underneath the lines of clothing.
And as Miles grew, so did his observance. He caught his mother withering under his father's strong gaze, the way some days she would favor one side or the other, the dark, purpled skin that colored her wrist as her sleeves slipped. He was older, and he knew better, and it made him angry. Part of his father's genetic legacy, passed on to him, it seemed. But he'd be better than that man, he promised himself. He wasn't going to hit his future wife, never lay a damn finger to her. He'd save that for the other assholes who tried to aggravate him. He joined extracurricular sports teams, whichever ones didn't overlap each other. Anything that would help him keep in shape. Because if he ever caught his father hurting his mom, if the man ever decided to come after him...he wasn't going down without a fight.
The bastard never did much more than argue with him, when he was in the mood for it. Miles did his best to avert anything he wanted to say to his mother to himself instead. One particular heated night, he let it slip that he knew exactly what the old man did, dared him to do it again and see what would happen. And still, no punches thrown. Coward. After his father stormed off into his office, he found his mom, looking pale, and did his best to comfort her, guilt in his eyes. She dealt with it enough, felt first hand what a temper could really be like, and he hated that he had to show her that he was just as capable of losing it as his father was. But he made her the same promise he had made to himself already. Carved them into the steel that was his unbreakable soul. This was not a thing he would change about himself ever again.
When he was sorted into a trade school after his aptitude test, no one was surprised. It was more surprising that he passed all his classes, but grit and determination (and maybe a few late studying nights with his mother) got him to where he felt he really belonged. And in the school, he shone bright. Cars, engines, they all made sense to him in a way his English classes never did. Like his father, he was a hands-on kind of man. And to his satisfaction, it was an entirely different path from that jerk. Add the sponsor visits in there, and you had a Miles that was as calm and content as he had ever been. His schoolmates pushed his buttons, but for the most part he knew it was a brotherhood kind of thing, and so he got good at pushing them back. He was just about finished with his trade schooling when his draft papers came in.
At first, it was all nerves and formalities. They stuck their fingers in the water, tried to get to know each other, finally got comfortable that things started to look like a real relationship. Mostly a friendship, though a strong one. Of course, being the ill-tempered idiot that he was, a couple months into their relationship he was really testing the waters. Someone mouthed off to him while he was out getting a drink with friends one night, lost his trademark temper, and the man ended up flat on his back with a broken while he landed his ass in corrections. When he got out a couple weeks later, his wife chewed him out for it. And hell, he deserved it. He promised her (and his boss, who had taken quite the shining to him and his work ethic) that he'd never get caught again. Something about the realness of the moment, the honesty between them, suddenly their marriage snowballed into something....more. What Miles had thought he had in his mother and father in his younger years. In all honesty, it was blissful. They finally started talking about kids.
For a while, it was great. Miles started to think about becoming a dad--got into the headspace while working on his own personal, pet project of fixing up an old bike. It was a beautiful piece of machinery, one his boss had given up on ages ago, but the man had said that if Miles could get it running right and proper, it was all his. Challenge accepted. He threw himself into it, often right after work for a couple hours a day, always inspired by the bikes that came into a shop. They were part of a motorcycle club, his boss had told him, and if there's anyone that you could learn about loving a bike from, it was those guys. And that was the damn truth. He never spoke to them when they came in, unless they spoke to him first, and he always listened. Just felt more right that way, yanno? Whatever long shadows those men cast, Miles never seemed to see any more than a simple dark spot.
As good as it was, shit eventually went south. His life fell apart, and fell apart fast. Starting one night while he was at work late with a few of the other guys, showing off his finished bike, got home way later than he wanted to. Found his wife on the couch, looking uncharacteristically miserable, and his stomach dropped. Tried to ask her what was wrong, but she was inconsolable. Miles held her close until she could find her voice. She had been going to visit a friend but just her husband was home. So they sat around, talked, and things...happened. Syn, something both of them rarely touched, had her feeling a little looser than she realized. And suddenly she was sleeping with the other man.
And for once in his life, Miles wasn't angry. He didn't lose his temper, and never once thought about raising a hand to her. He just walked out the front door, and didn't come back in until he was too tired to do think anymore. It cut deep. But he could tell that it really and truly hurt her just as bad as it hurt him. She told him, immediately after, wasting no time, and there was an honesty to that that he had to respect. He didn't hate her, it was the last thing in the world he could ever do. He had two choices: report her, or forgive her. And he forgave her. They worked past it, and the crucible only solidified their want for a child.
The man's wife, however, wasn't so forgiving.
If he had thought that cut deep, the day he lost his wife to the Trust practically cut him in half. Spite, spite of the other man's wife took away his own. Why was she allowed to ruin his life, when he had chosen to overcome such a thing? Why did she have any right to report his wife and not just her own husband. It was bullshit. He didn't say it out loud, he knew better than that, but it was bullshit through and through. That became his most worn out mantra in the days to come, as bitterness choked off his air and the bright coals of anger burned hotter in the pit of his stomach. He lost himself in his work, because that's what he did best.
A welcome change came in the form of a familiar face, a regular who was part of the local motor club. Lou was one of the shop's regulars, and one of the ones would would take time to strike up a conversation with Miles if time allowed it. And he liked that about him, liked having someone he felt comfortable sharing a few life stories with, mentioning a few frustrations. As far as Miles was concerned, he was a good guy. Though, he can't say he was expecting an invitation to join the motor club to come his way. Or that he'd be anywhere on the radar. But there was something real tempting about it, the idea of riding around with like minded people. In all honesty, he still wasn't sure what it was they did. But he didn't mind the idea of finding out. As long as he was willing to jump through quite a few hoops first.
Well, hell, why not? He had nothing to lose anymore.
Birthdate: March 28th
Bad Habits: Being insultingly blunt, not opening up, a willingness to punch first and ask questions later
Turn-Ons: Loyalty, fearlessness, rough play (though nothing too rough), closeness, hips, lip biting, teasing
Turn-Offs: someone too argumentative, a pushy attitude, spite, dishonesty
hair color preference: Brown or black
eye color preference: Color doesn't matter much, he just likes nice eyes
draft position: Against
premarriage y/n: No
skinned exclusively for the draft by saramonster
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