LaRUE, colt

[kelsey paxton]

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colt&&laRue
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••FRONT FACE••

(Auditions) Character
Name && Nicknames: Colt LaRue.
Given first name replaced by the nickname Colt so often that the first was ignored.

Gender: Male
Age: Twenty-Three.
Trade:
Class: Lower
Canon/Original: Original

••CASE FILES••

(Physical Attributes) Colt's hair is a dark brown, often associated with the color of cocoa. Usually on sunnier days one can depict soft hints of red and blond in it, too, if you look close enough. His eyes are a bright, soft green, fierce in their judgment though kind in their way of observing. Sitting in the center of his face, Colt's nose is known to be a bit crooked from being broken more than once. The bridge of it sits a bit higher than normal because of that. His lips are usually set in some sort of lopsided grin, what one would call a dorky grin he tends to get. But still, a rather welcoming dorky grin.

A faint two inch scar is visible when he smiles above his left eye; while another few lay across his chest from a couple fights in his teen years. With one look at Colt, the first thing one would notice is his height. He tends to dwarf those around him at a height of six foot, four inches. His shoulders are sloped at the edges more than straight. His torso is long for a man of his stature, though it balances out with his legs and arms. He's never been pegged as a bulky man, just large and easily huggable. While he does have noticeable muscle, he isn't anywhere near a thick-necked bull ready to pummel anyone.

Like most men of that time, Colt is often found wearing trousers, waistcoat and ensemble. None of it is ever new or neat, and even though colors have been tried to match, the few patches here and there do not keep the eye from straying away from them. Colt rarely, unless forced by weather or otherwise, is found actually wearing his coat and usually carries it at his side. He shies away from bright colors, as if he needed anything more for people to spot him, with his height and awkward body.

••TRIFLES••

likes;
-Colt has a strong liking to any kind of weather, the different dips and turns it takes reminds him how stable he truly is and strives to be.
-Sleep. Really, who doesn't enjoy it?
- Hugs. Perhaps it’s a childish thing to love so much, but he can’t help it. They’re rare, but often give him a sense of safety and security that nothing else can give.
-Conversation. He’s not that good at it, but usually can get his point across with use of a reply garbled up with random words.
-Wildflowers. Call it feminine, but the way that something can grow and thrive on it's own and through struggles reminds him that he too, can do it.
-Paintings, really, the things that people can do with colors amazes him.
-The night sky. Perhaps the moon and stars are overly romanticized, but Colt doesn’t allow that to get in the way of how beautiful he finds them and will often stare at them for long periods of time when he needs to think.

dislikes;
-Being stuck at home for more than what is necessary to sleep, eat, and get clean.
-Work, at least too much of it.
-Days on end without rain.
-Long strings of silence, while he does like the silence, too much of it is annoying and makes his ears ring.
-People who are afraid to tackle challenges because fear of scandal or society holds them back.
-Roses. He doesn't like the thorns, though they smell nice.
-Routine. Knowing what is to happen the next day all the time rather bores him.
-His way of life. Thus proven by the many times he has tried ti find an honest way of living. His search has proven fruitless though and so until another day, Colt will be found loathing waking every morning.

habits;
-He’s been known to spout off words without thinking, and regrets it later.
-He has issues explaining how he feels about things; Colt tends to babble on and on once he gets going.
-He'll pace in circles when he's angry; he also tends to talk to himself when alone.
-Once his mind is set, it’s not easily changed by anyone but few.

weaknesses;
-Impulsive.
-Impatient.
-Shy around the opposite sex.
-Tends to say things without thinking.
-Easily gets bored with things if there's no excitement or success within it.
-Fear of the unknown. While often this is used as fear of death; for Colt it is a fear of what people might think. It’s held him back many times from explaining how he feels about something and usually when he finds the right time to explain; it’s often too late.
-His family. They’re all he has, their opinions matter more to him than most and he would do anything to protect that.

strengths;
-Independent.
-Enthusiastic.
-Generous.
-Optimistic.
-Outgoing.

secrets;
-His way of living. Like most in his situation, that is, raising a family before you’ve even been able to have your own family or turn twenty five, Colt will often lie about it or ignore the question of his family completely. It isn’t a topic he feels comfortable with because while he tries his best to keep them healthy, fed, and warm, the ways he’s gone about doing so have been underhanded and definitely not something spoken of in general conversation.
-Once in his life and never before or since; he’s worn a dress. The only one to know of it is eight years old, so the secret is as best kept as an eight year old can keep a secret.
-Knives; he’s afraid of them, though for good reasoning.
-Though twenty-three, Colt can rarely be found sleeping alone. It isn’t that he can’t find rest without people around, it’s more of a comfort than anything. Being alone in the dark sometimes gives way to thoughts and feelings he’d rather avoid.

(Personality) Colt is a moody fella, easily approachable though often hard to associate with. When things do not go his way, he tends to brood over it longer than he should and give up. His temper is one that often has gotten him into fistfights and verbal arguments laced with colorful names and colorful vocabularies. While he is moody and a bit temperamental, he is the kind of guy you would want by your side if ever you needed someone.

Colt is the sort of guy who would kindly accept your call at 3 in the morning and readily be at your side if you needed a shoulder. He's huggable and sweet, and tends to radiate a kind of mood one would peg up as happy, optimistic, easily befriend-able. He'll listen if you need a word of advice or simply just to express how you feel about the world. He's also quite humorous if not in what he says but in his actions. He tends to be clumsy and has issues with his height. While he watches where he walks; more often than not he’ll overlook things and trip, run into, or knock over things. He's never been an agile, lithe kind of person.

Jealousy has been a part of him that has always gotten him into many different arguments, both physical and vocal or both. He never acts upon it right away but usually tucks it away as if nothing; until it reaches the boiling point whereupon he will act. It isn’t something Colt has ever been able to fix no matter how many times he’s sat arguing with himself over whatever matter it is he’s jealous about.

Flirty is something one could never peg Colt up as. Words fail him in any situation involving those of the opposite sex that he cares deeply for. He's been known as "romantically awkward", just the same as one would be "socially awkward". So many words tend to come to him at once that he tends to spit out the first that come to him, and he often regrets it later on or, right away. He'll usually try to lie over his goof ups and mistakes but he tends to be a rather transparent liar and people see straight through him the moment he spouts off something.

••EVIDENCE••

(History) Histories are fairly simple. You ask what’s happened in someone’s life and they tell you very little bits and pieces. Some are sad, some are normal, and some even sadistic (huh, who knew I knew that word in context?). I’ve been told mine was normal, calm, and quiet. I’m not really the kind of person to give thick detail or go on about what I didn’t have or what I always wanted but never got, which there were quite a few things. But is it wrong to settle on the fact that I always had everything I needed? Always warm, as full as what we had for a meal could keep me, and forever safe.

It wasn’t a large home that I grew up in; rather simple and small. (Much better than a large one that could only be described coldly as a house, if you ask me. But you didn’t ask me… damnit.) A-anyway, by time I had turned fifteen, there were three children in our household. Mother was happy; Father content; and the three of us children taken care of. There was no room for complaint in our tiny little world that seemed as if it would never disappear.

Things are different now of course, after Father died the cheapest place to go was a house in the city, owned by a distant relative. I’m not sure how we’re related exactly, but we moved here anyway; myself, Mother, Nonie who seemed not to care where we went as long as we were together; and Percy, who took the move just as hard as I did, if not more.

Four years of trouble, even more mishappenings and a lot of hard work (honest and not so honest, yeah?) brings us to now. It’s simple, the way we live, but Mother is ill most of the time, Iona beginning to notice our frowns, Percy unruly and following in my footsteps and myself taking care of mostly everything. I can’t complain; they’re all I have. I’d do anything for them.

••BEHIND THE MASK••

(Me) Name: Revverse/Rev/Revvie… Jessie or Jess to those I’m comfortable with. (:
Age: 19.
RP experience: Uhh… started somewhere around ‘04, possibly before.
Other Characters: Kale somethingorother, whenever he gets finished.

(roleplay)

Sitting, or rather standing and watching four other men sit at a table wasn’t what was making Tracey feel uncomfortable. One of them glared, the second one looked bored, the third tired and the fourth menacing. Tracey wasn’t the type of man to be afraid in the type of situation where he had to speak; but at this moment he was the bearer of bad news. To a group of men much larger than him and wouldn’t hesitate to give him a taste of their fists if he told them the wrong news. This was how Karl had done business for years and stayed so healthy though, he sent younger men to do his bidding for him. Why this, though? If Tracey were the type to show fear, he would have been shaking or nearly swallowing his tongue. Physical arguments just weren’t his thing, and he wasn’t even good at fighting back.

“Well, he sent another one of his yes men this time. What is it, kid?” the second, bored looking bald man spoke flatly. Tracey had only seen this man once before, and that had been when he had visited Karls’ shop himself. The fourth, menacing man who had arms the size of electric poles and fingers as thick as sausage, shrugged and looked up from a paper set before him. “‘Yes man’? Karl doesn‘t have yes men. He picks up young‘uns off the streets and promises them safety but gives them a life of crime. Raised this one ‘imself from… what was it, Canuck?” Tracey was surprised at how much this man knew of Karl and even his dealings with Karl. He shrugged nonchalantly, not understanding why he was being forced to explain himself and just wanted to get out of the stuffy room.

Even the noise just on the other side of the door sounded much more appealing to him and Tracey didn’t even like sleazy looking joints. The women were always too talkative and too young, places like this had stupid bouncers who let anyone in and had poor judgment. Tracey had already broken a few laws with a younger girl before and he wasn’t planning on ever doing that again; he still had some regrets about it and he wasn’t the type who hardly thought of his past. Although at this moment he wouldn’t have minded her next to him because while he was good with words, if any of these men stood up he stood no chance against them without her help. He shrugged. “I didn‘t know you dug so deeply into strangers‘ pasts.” Tracey spoke plainly, feigning his boredom well. Growing up with so many siblings had taught him to do so well.

“Alright, you got me there kid.” the man was seeming less menacing the more he spoke, Tracey only grew uncomfortable the more small talk was given. The first man who had been glaring spoke up, “Whatever, don‘t care. What did Karl send you-” the third, tired man interrupted. “Chill out a little, Jimmy.” Jimmy? Oh, that was a nice name for an impatient little sucker. Tracey thought to himself, although his thoughts bit back with the reminder that his name wasn’t any better. “It‘s fine,” he spoke up casually, stepping forward and placing the butt of his palms against the table and grasping the edge of it. He only looked away for a moment before speaking. “Times have been harder lately on all of us at the shop. Karl can‘t send more than one to two people out per week unless he wants to get shut down,” he paused for a moment, knowing he was about to get chewed out for something he didn’t do.

“Money‘s been bad. Better cars are harder to come by. We‘re missing more than we‘re gaining.” Tracey stepped back from the table as Jimmy stood up, still glaring and looking even more menacing than the fourth man had been. “So you mean to tell us Karl was too chicken shit to come out and tell us himself? You know… I have half a mind to send you back to him with a notch in your pretty face.” The tired man again interrupted him, “You have half a mind, Jimmy. Sit down, dumbass.” Jimmy didn’t comply but came around and shoved Tracey. “So he doesn‘t have the balls to come himself? Dickless bastard. You tell him,” another shove and Tracey didn’t dare try shoving back out of fear it would only stoke this mans fire more. “Come on Jimmy, listen to your-” “Shut the fuck up, Canuck! You tell your stupid fat boss to get off his lazy ass and come tell us himself he can‘t shit the money out or suffer worse consequence.” Jimmy stepped back, snapped his fingers, and Tracey was shoved out the door.

Perhaps his fear of physical conflict had come from his siblings, Tracey didn’t know. If it had, he knew he had another reason to hate James. Tracey rarely hated people, but James was one of those rare exceptions. Normally if in the situation from before, Tracey would have done better. But the more he thought about it, the more the Jimmy fellow reminded him of his brother. Perhaps that was why Tracey had been nothing but putty just moments before. He felt slightly out of sorts and stupid for it, but there wasn’t much he could do. As he walked through a crowd of people, he began feeling a little more comfortable but knew he wouldn’t feel any better until he was out of the building. He just wasn’t much of himself lately and he wasn’t exactly sure why.

Next to the front door was a long bar and he paused. A little drink couldn’t hurt, right? Right, of course not. When he came up, he was choosy about where he stopped. If he were lucky he could get a little eye candy out of this deal. If it were eat in or takeout he would determine once the choice was brought to him. To his left was an empty seat which a thing he didn’t like and to his right was a petite brunette with a voice as if she’d been smoking for thirty years and a mouth like a goat. He fought the urge to make a face at the idea of what kissing that would taste like. Either hay, oats, or burnt trash. Whatever really worked. She didn’t even look that old either. Since when did you get so damn picky? Oh… since you decided you had your pick of the crop? His thoughts whirled and he turned, to the barkeep who was asking what he wanted. His brain worked up a manageable reply to the man who produced what he ordered before him faster than he could blink.

Tracey didn’t get much of a drink before his line of vision turned toward the front door. Now that was the kind of thing he was looking for. Takeout, maybe. Blondes normally weren’t his thing, but even if it didn’t pan out for the evening, a little flirting with her wouldn’t hurt to get his mind away from his experience previously that had his mind back in his childhood with his brother. Tracey wasn’t the type to approach at first unless he was impatient, so he waited a moment before she took the short walk up to the bar. “You know… I‘m not the type of guy who‘s into the pick-up line thing because it‘s usually just some cheese about ‘angels flying low’, and that‘s just a bunch of shit when it‘s easier to say you look nice, yeah?” Tracey spoke with a slight smirk to the blonde. She seemed a little out of place but she was definitely much better to look at than the rest of this busy, crowded building. “Come on, let me buy you a drink?” He reached out a hand to her lower back rather faintly, turning. “What‘ll it be?”

- - - - - - - - - -

••THEPLAYBOOK••

so, this was made by jenny a.k.a slytherdorclaw of blank pages!. this took a while so, as always, don't steal. um, yeah. so that's it, really. {with edits by staff}

[Dr. John Watson]

ACCEPTED !