Rousse Twibell

So wat's yer name, kid? *is sitting on the bed, straight and proper, with all the upstart snobbery of a rich kid. A rather large pile of candy with a few coins interspersed can be seen just below his crossed knees. He notices your interest in the candy and he glares at you with attempted malice.* My name is Russel Byron Patrick Twibell the third, thank you. And this is my candy. *covers his stash with a protective arm.*

You got a nick-name or was 'dat it? *sighs. Coughs out,* Rousse. The dirty French ingrate my mother thought would be a welcome addition to our clan gave it to me. *fingers an auburn tendril and glares at you once more* Curse this red hair! Rousse means "red hair" in French. *mumbles* Ill-mannered lout.

Where you from, anyways? New Rochelle. *turns his attention to the candy.* One, two, three, four, five.... *yells* God, I'm missing one! Who took it?! *remembers that you're still there. Glares.* You took it, didn't you?

Whadd'a yah look like? Are you blind? *incredulously* I look like every other sixteen-year-old. I've got red hair. I sunburn easily. I have red ears, a red nose, red cheeks, red eyes...er, green, er, brown, er, hazel. *he rolls up his sleeves and continues to count his horde of candy. You notice he has an abnormally large amount of freckles. Though you would think him to be of Irish origin from his red countenance, he is actually French. Don't tell him, he'd probably kill you with a look of death.*

Got any 'ahhh, distin'guishin charact'ahristics? Have I mentioned I'm red? *blushes* Why do you care, anyway? *frowns and his lower lip begins to tremble. What, is he crying? No, he just wants you to feel sorry for him. He thrives on peer pity rather than pressure. He's also lived a very charmed life. No one's really sure why he lives at a lodging house. He has a family and hates everyone on the street. But then again, he hates everyone in general including his Nanny Meriweather. She looks for him everywhere. This could be why he doesn't live at home. He's sick of her leach-like tendencies.*

If you emptied out yah pockets on dis' table right now, wat�would fall out? Why should I empty my pockets? *glares at you suspiciously. Pulls out a sewing needle and waves it around threateningly.* I'd like to see you try anything with me! Meriweather taught me how to use a needle herself!

How'd you find 'da place? I had a Jewish friend named Jeff. And then he died. It was a freak, ahhhh, snowstorm accident. He was traveling to Missouri to visit a lover. She was actually in love with me, but that's beside the point. Personally, I find this all appalling because, at this point Mr. Tobias, his last name was Tobias by the way,had required the service of a horse. The ungrateful beast tripped on a fence and bucked him into a pond. The poor fool died in two feet of water. The funny thing is, he had a pet fish named King Russel. Yes, he was named after me. *blushes* That's beside the point. The point really is that Jeff used to live in Long Island before he made that fateful journey to Missouri, and I would visit him on occaision. When I ran away from Meriweather, I intended to stay with Jeff and his family, but when I discovered that he had passed away, I found it inappropriate to prolong my stay with the Tobias family and so I moved on. And here I am. Curse that Missouri girl.

You drink, smoke, gamble...� All appalling behaviors that I participate in regularly. *In reality, he has never touched a drink stronger than Meriweather's cough medicine, abhorred cigarettes from an unfortunate incident with a burning mattress, and he can't gamble because he's an eternal pack-rat and refuses to give anything away.*

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So wat's yer name, kid?	is sitting on the bed, straight and proper, with all the upstart snobbery of a rich kid. A rather large pile of candy with a few coins interspersed can be seen just below his crossed knees. He notices your interest in the candy and he glares at you with attempted malice. My name is Russel Byron Patrick Twibell the third, thank you. And this is my candy. covers his stash with a protective arm.
You got a nick-name or was 'dat it?	sighs. Coughs out, Rousse. The dirty French ingrate my mother thought would be a welcome addition to our clan gave it to me. fingers an auburn tendril and glares at you once more Curse this red hair! Rousse means "red hair" in French. mumbles Ill-mannered lout.
Where you from, anyways?	New Rochelle. turns his attention to the candy. One, two, three, four, five.... yells God, I'm missing one! Who took it?! remembers that you're still there. Glares. You took it, didn't you?
Whadd'a yah look like?	Are you blind? incredulously I look like every other sixteen-year-old. I've got red hair. I sunburn easily. I have red ears, a red nose, red cheeks, red eyes...er, green, er, brown, er, hazel. he rolls up his sleeves and continues to count his horde of candy. You notice he has an abnormally large amount of freckles. Though you would think him to be of Irish origin from his red countenance, he is actually French. Don't tell him, he'd probably kill you with a look of death.
Got any 'ahhh, distin'guishin charact'ahristics?	Have I mentioned I'm red? blushes Why do you care, anyway? frowns and his lower lip begins to tremble. What, is he crying? No, he just wants you to feel sorry for him. He thrives on peer pity rather than pressure. He's also lived a very charmed life. No one's really sure why he lives at a lodging house. He has a family and hates everyone on the street. But then again, he hates everyone in general including his Nanny Meriweather. She looks for him everywhere. This could be why he doesn't live at home. He's sick of her leach-like tendencies.
If you emptied out yah pockets on dis' table right now, wat�would fall out?	Why should I empty my pockets? glares at you suspiciously. Pulls out a sewing needle and waves it around threateningly. I'd like to see you try anything with me! Meriweather taught me how to use a needle herself!
How'd you find 'da place?	I had a Jewish friend named Jeff. And then he died. It was a freak, ahhhh, snowstorm accident. He was traveling to Missouri to visit a lover. She was actually in love with me, but that's beside the point. Personally, I find this all appalling because, at this point Mr. Tobias, his last name was Tobias by the way,had required the service of a horse. The ungrateful beast tripped on a fence and bucked him into a pond. The poor fool died in two feet of water. The funny thing is, he had a pet fish named King Russel. Yes, he was named after me. blushes That's beside the point. The point really is that Jeff used to live in Long Island before he made that fateful journey to Missouri, and I would visit him on occaision. When I ran away from Meriweather, I intended to stay with Jeff and his family, but when I discovered that he had passed away, I found it inappropriate to prolong my stay with the Tobias family and so I moved on. And here I am. Curse that Missouri girl.
You drink, smoke, gamble...�	All appalling behaviors that I participate in regularly. In reality, he has never touched a drink stronger than Meriweather's cough medicine, abhorred cigarettes from an unfortunate incident with a burning mattress, and he can't gamble because he's an eternal pack-rat and refuses to give anything away.