First off, can you tell us your real name?:

*a young man stands uncomfortably as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. He seems not so much shy as confused and anxious* Maloney Riordan. My name is Maloney Fitzpatrick Riordan.

Do you have a nickname? If so, how'd you get it?:

*pauses to hold a match to the cigarette perched precariously on his lips* Shanty, I guess. That�s a bit of a long story, I�m afraid. I got that while I was working near Manchester last year in a coal mine. Some of the lads didn�t�*exhales, smoke curling around his dark, angular features* take to Irish too well.

Do you know your age? Birthday?:

*laughs a little, though without a trace of humor* I�m not a bloody savage. I�m eighteen, and I was born on the 19th of December in Gibraltar, Spain.

Can you describe your looks?:

*he tugs at his dark hair* My Spanish side, I guess. Quite the odd match, I suppose. *indicates with a quick gesture of the cigarette his tanned skin and pale blue eyes. All and all, he is a rather handsome young man, with strong, broad shoulders and forearms stacked with knotty muscles. His skin is deep bronze of a Spaniard, with closely cropped dark hair that frames a strong jaw, Roman nose, and blue eyes that sharply contrast his skin*

What's your personality like?:

*laughs again, not a pleasant sound* Just ask those British bastards in Manchester. *realizing he should probably qualify his previous statement, he continues* I won�t start any trouble with anyone, long as no one messes with my things.

Got any friends?:

Not in the States, I don�t. Not yet, anyway.

What about a significant other?:

*his eyes open wide, a sudden and angry flowering of blue* Let�s�not talk about that right now, if you�d be so kind. *hand moves quickly to his back pocket*

Any family?:

*brings the cigarette back up to his lips and nods slowly* My father was an Irish-born British soldier stationed in Gibraltar, on the Spanish peninsula. Gibraltar had a few whorehouses geared towards British soldiers then�my mother worked in one. Eleven months later, my father was on his way back to the Isles, with me.

What was your past like?:

*laughs* Horrible. I used to live in England, but my dad has strange ideas about love and marriage, so I decided to give up all that fancy nobility stuff and come here. *shakes his head disapprovingly* Am I an idiot or what?

Anything else you want to say about yourself?:

*pauses briefly, seeming to consider it* No.