Adam Driver Character Imagines

~Car Fire-Clyde Logan~

You sigh, eyes rolling as Max Chilblain and his other two goons slam the car door in your face. You couldn't believe your idiot brother had gotten you into this mess in the first place. As you push the car door open and leap out, your feet hit the concrete of the emptied parking lot. A few cars were speckled closer to the old wooden bar, but it was fairly empty.

Max was wearing one of his flashy red leather jackets beaded with pearls or some shit. He always liked to draw attention to himself despite his prominent following. A while back he had created an energy drink company called 'To the Max Energy.' It was a complete and total sham with unparalleled health complications awaiting anyone who drank that bullshit. Your brother, unfortunately, was one of the idiots that got roped into it.

Your brother, Dayton White, was a racer for Max's team. They were getting ready for the upcoming Coca-Cola 600 on Memorial Day weekend, but you could only see this ending disastrously. With Max's ego and your brother's... well...stupidity, it could only end in a ball of fire. Now you were getting dragged around as a peace-keeper while Dayton was trying to keep up an image for himself. Apparently he wanted you to be a part of the team as well, but to do that you would have to get on Max's good side. Something told you that that wasn't going to happen. Especially because these three had no problem slandering your brother right in front of you.

"See dirty, big secret is-" Max rants as he walks into the cozy building "-that I am the asset in this scenario. It's not Dayton White. And the simple fact is; I would be driving that car myself if my day job wasn't running a billion dollar company. And by the way, it was my understanding that this was America, people, so trying muzzle the company that I created in America is a violation of my free speech."

You scoff as you sit down on the opposite side of Max. Your eyes immediately roam over to the rather large man standing behind the wooden counter. His strong upper body was covered in a dark grey button-down. He wore black jeans and had a rag slung over one of his broad shoulders. The thick black hair that framed his unique face fell to those shoulders. Neatly trimmed facial hair sat above his pink, full lips and a rather prominent nose accentuated it. In this lighting, his eyes appeared to be almost gold. For short, he was unconventionally handsome.

He glances at you, offering you a shy smile as you try to tune out Max's endless ranting. You return the smile, watching as he sets down napkins with his right hand. It was now that you noticed he did not possess a left hand. Instead, he wore a prosthetic from the elbow down. As you open your mouth to say something to him, Max's loud voice cuts over you.

"Plus, plus, two of those kids only had one kidney to begin with. So why isn't anybody writing about that?" Max shakes his head.

"What'll it be?" The bartender's southern drawl snaps you out of your disgust for Max.

You look back up at him with a smile. "I'll take a-"

"Excuse me," Max interrupts rudely. "Why are you talking to her?"

"Don't be rude, Max, it's his job." You snap, giving the man a cold glare.

He scowls at you and then at the bartender. "Next time, you ask me and I'll order for the pretty lady."

You give him a look. "I'm perfectly capable of-"

"She'll have a regular coke. No alcohol for her." Max smirks, causing his friends to laugh. He looks the bartender up and down, letting out a cold laugh. "I just thought of a great song title: 'The Kindness of a One-Armed Bartender.'"

The others laugh again, prompting you to give them more angry glares. Just as you try to jump in to interject, the bartender lifts his prosthetic up.