Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, heir of the vast Starsmore Fortune, esteemed leader of the mighty and powerful Clan Akkaba, and wielder of Mysterious Powers of Which He Never Spoke, rose out of bed this morning.
In much the same manner as he did every morning, of course. Shirtless and gorgeous, smiling broadly into the sunlight that shone through his window, outlining his perfect chest, his dashing smile, and, of course, that very same perfect chest that had been mentioned a moment before. It was a very nice chest. It deserved to be mentioned twice.
And, as he was also prone to doing each and every morning, without so much as bothering with a shirt (and why should he ever? It really was a lovely chest. Perhaps he ought to go for a walk to show it off, later today, despite it being December.), he made his way across his room, waved a hand to dismiss his doting servants, and reached for his guitar.
One couldn't be a stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star without practise, after all. Even if he needed no warm-ups and was always, always perfectly on-key.
[Open! I have no particular plans for Jono this weekend, and so if anyone wants to pop in and lather on the crack, I'll totally roll with it.]
- Room 408, Saturday Morning