Indigo Q. Garrison

29

Cis male, he/him

"I.Q. Garrison" is what's printed in the credits for each edition of the magazine, but other than that he isn't one for nicknames

Serious and brooding and so desperately scared of whatever the hell is going on in this place. He didn't sign up for this. Really, someone needs to take care of him before he gets hurt.

Average weight and a bit on the short side. Completely devoid of freckles. Low muscle. Still has fairly long legs, so the length he's missing is mostly in his torso. There is a great opportunity for a sexual innuendo there but I am being ~professional~

Business casual for work, not because he has to but because he's just constantly clinging to the little shreds of anything that might make him feel more confident at this point.

2C3766

9D3254

E5E3D9

A wine-colored splotch about the size of a nickel overlapping with the outer corner of his left eye. A pink moon-shaped scar on the back of his right hand from when he first shook hands with The Founder. Of course, that creepy Rosenhen bastard had to dig his gross nails in so much that it bled.