Name: Lance
Age: 28
Pronouns: He/him
Personality: He is gentle, kind, and loving. Introverted, though always ready to fight for those that he cares about. He's sensitive but he also has great analytical abilities. He is reserved but has very good people skills and is good at forming social relationships. Supportive, patient, reliable. Ride or die to a fault. Shy, humble, but too willing to let things slide and believe they will get better. Loves to learn.
Appearance: Dark skin, warm brown eyes. His face shape is slightly round. His hair goes just past his shoulder. It is black and in dreadlocks. He usually pulls it back into a loose ponytail. Though scholarly, he looks very strong and is very tall.
Background: His husband was hired by an opponent at the university he used to work out. Lance ended up charming him instead, and they've been together ever since. He's not a big fan of his husband's line of work, but he still loves him and would do anything for him.
(Does the background fit with your character Reed? If not, I can change it. Is the age okay? And I didn't know if you had a last name in mind already or not.)
Yep, it's perfect!
I'd prefer to keep my character le mystery, so I'll explain in my responses.m
Patrice Delacroix, a man of intellect and most of the time, patience. But not today, his schedule had been thrown off by one of the children being sick, so he had to call the doctor which took about an hour. He was an hour late but decided to give the children the first half of the day off and instead sat at his desk, eyes focused on his emails.
A day off meant nothing to Roux, only that she had more time to be the best.Silently she snuck down to the training room where she began practicing her knife throwing at a shredded target. Everyone says she doesn't need more practice, but that shows what they know. Someone entered in behide her. she didn't need to turn around as she threw a warning knife that landing in the wall next to their ear, as she still faced the target. A squeak emerged from the person behind her.
Scipio swore in Italian, freezing up for a second before trying to act as though the knife hadn't startled him. "Watch where you are throwing those! I am not your target!" He huffed indignantly, his accent particularly strong during his exclamation. It was quite strong in general, as he was still pretty new to English and fresh from Italy, but he was learning quickly. His accent would be highly noticeable for some time, though.
"I know where I threw it." She spoke simply, still facing the target. She never had a real family and this was no exception. She would not treat these children as siblings. She would not nurture them and kiss every "owie" they got. She heard Scipio start to move, drawing a faint smirk to her lips. She threw another knife behind her, knowing it would barely nick his upper left ear.
Scipio hissed in pain and swore again, drawing one hand up to his now-bleeding ear. "Fine. I suppose I will just leave, then." He turned and left the room, though not without a seething glare in Roux's direction. "I just figured you would want to know that we have another job." He muttered before he stepped out into the hall.
He stood up from his desk, shutting his laptop and going to find his husband. "Dear?" He called out. "Would you like to go for some lunch? I'm sure the kids can handle themselves for an hour or two."
Lance looked up from his desk, putting a bookmark in the book he was reading and closing it. He looked at the doorway of his office to see Patrice standing there. "Of course my love," he said, standing up and smiling at the sight of his husband. "Did you give them the rest of the morning off?"
Scipio settled himself in the kitchen, still huffing indignantly and looking rather pissed. He held a paper towel to his bleeding ear and impatiently waited, just hoping he could dry up the small wound soon so he could do literally anything else.
Lance looked up from his desk, putting a bookmark in the book he was reading and closing it. He looked at the doorway of his office to see Patrice standing there. "Of course my love," he said, standing up and smiling at the sight of his husband. "Did you give them the rest of the morning off?"
"I gave them till three." Patrice looked at his watch, it read eleven am. "We should be back maybe two hours before. That gives us time to clean up if they did make a mess." A mess meaning, any piss, shit, or vomit. He may still think they're todlers, this man don't know how to care for children.
(Is this still open or am I too late to the party? It’s cool if I am, I’ll stalk this if it’s closed)
(Alright cool! Would you like a writing sample from me?)
(Cool, cool! Thanks ^>^ I’ll quickly make up a form for the character I’m thinking of using~)
Roux was use to the glares she got them even before she was what people call blunt. Ever since she was little no ones liked her, where she grew up you had to be tough, you had to be strong, and you had to be ready to fight, or you had to be able to kill. There was no "Hey wanna be BFF's for life?" The only friend you needed was you. She heard over Scipio's thick accent that there they had another job. She continued throwing knifes at the target not really caring what he said, she was ready, even if they weren't. Thats when she heard it.
The alarm blared.
Lance looked up from his desk, putting a bookmark in the book he was reading and closing it. He looked at the doorway of his office to see Patrice standing there. "Of course my love," he said, standing up and smiling at the sight of his husband. "Did you give them the rest of the morning off?"
"I gave them till three." Patrice looked at his watch, it read eleven am. "We should be back maybe two hours before. That gives us time to clean up if they did make a mess." A mess meaning, any piss, shit, or vomit. He may still think they're todlers, this man don't know how to care for children.
"Oh please," Lance said, grabbing his husband's arm. "They're children, but they're capable children." You've made sure of that. "They will be fine Patrice. Now let's just enjoy our lunch. Where are we going?" This would be a pleasant time, free of fighting. An afternoon lunch alone with his husband was a rare treat and Lance wanted to enjoy it.
"You never know," Patrice muttered, leaning into his husband's touch. "What about… A new Italian place just opened up on fourth street?" He offered, a soft, unusual smile starting to form on his face. The smile was only seen by Lance and his own family, sometimes the children, if they caught him at a weak moment.
Lynne heard about the morning off and though nothing of it. It was unusual sure but after hearing one of the other kids being sick, it made some sort of sense. Sure they got sick, but that doesn't mean they shouldn't be training, survival of the fittest. If they couldn't handle a bit of physical of movement then how can they be trusted? The eight year old considered going to the training room but say two other kids going in that direction. She preferred silence so she heads the other way. Maybe she could train in the garden or somewhere else that the man wouldn't get too mad from destruction.
(Hey Reed, is this full?)
