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Your real name. No aliases: we'll figure it out sooner or later and you'll be less one job immediately. |
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| Oh, no, sir. I wouldn�t lie t� ya. Folks were made t� be honest, an� tellin� fibs ain�t stayin� true t� that nature, y� know. If a body gets used t� goin� �gainst �is nat�ral pers�nal�ty, then soon �nough, �e gets t� th� point where �e don�t know who�re what �e is. �T�ain�t right. An�way, m� name�s Tad, sir. Tad Rasmussen. | |
| So, is that just between you and me, or do you have somethin' else you'd rather we call ya? | |
| Well, sir, m� older brother, Tommy, �e used t� call me �Tadpole.� I don�t reckon I�d like that t� continue, though. Never was fond o� th� name. �Course, Tommy, �e didn�t care much. �Twas jus� his way o� sayin� �e cares, I s�pose. Never bothered t� ask. Didn�t want t� pry, y� see. �T�weren�t none o� m� bus�ness. | |
| How old are ya? | |
| �M nineteen if I�m a day, sir. *nods* | |
| Say I die tonight an' there are new guys at the door tomorrow when ya come in for work. How do they know it's you? What do you look like? | |
| *gives San a curious look* Y� sick, sir? If y� don�t mind m� askin�, I mean. If y� are, maybe y� ought t� go on home an� rest yer eyes. A sick body needs sleep, y� see. Otherwise, y� might jus� shrivel up an� die, an� that wouldn�t be a purty sight. *shrugs a little* An� I reckon I'm kinda tall. *stands at 6'0" when fully erect* I got blond hair. It's short, I don't like it too long, y' know. Um...m' eyes're brown. *shrugs* *keeps himself clean-shaven and well groomed at all times* *is thin and somewhat gangly, but very self assured* *carries himself with an air of self confidence that doesn't quite reach arrogance* | |
| Right. What's your background like? And got any education -- can ya read an' write? | |
| A mite bit, I�d have t� say. *shrugs* I grew up in Okl'homa, Bowden area. 'T'was jus' me an' Tommy an' our pa. Ma died when we was little. *misses his mother terribly, even to this day* Pa did right by us, learnin' us our letters an' numbers an' all. *grew up in a small town with a one-room schoolhouse* Y' see, Pa didn't like Mr. Sinclair, th' schoolteacher. So 'e kept us outta there much's poss'ble, an' we worked th' land, instead. *shrugs* Pa died last month. He had himself a stroke. M' older brother, Tommy, he took over th' farm, an' I d'cided I needed somethin' of a change, y' see, sir. So I jumped on th' first train outta Okl'homa, an' that's how I ended up here, I reckon. *smiles, even though the wounds are still fresh* *misses his father and brother more than he can even express* | |
| Describe yourself, your personality. | |
| *ponders this for about half a second* Now, I'd reckon I'm more on th' nice side than th' other side. *is very nice and quite friendly, and quite talkative when he gets going* 'Course, a body can't be all one an' none o' th' other. 'T'ain't nat'ral, y' see, sir. *smiles* | |
| Criminal record, prior arrests or convictions to speak of? | |
| Oh, no, sir. �T�ain�t m� style, y� know. I like t� consider m�self a mite bit too smart fer that. I got m'self in m' own share o' scrapes, though, jus' like any other boy. *grins warmly* Nothin' too bad, y' know. M' pa woulda tanned m' hide I'da done some o' th' things Tommy did, boy, let me tell ya. | |
| Got any family around, or friends? | |
| *shrugs* Only fam'ly I got left is Tommy, an' I ain't a' courtin' right now. Jus' moved t' th' area, y' know. But some o� th� people at th� house � that�s th� GravesEnd Home Fer Boys an� Girls, y� see � they�re right good people. Lots of �em work here, too. | |
| What're your skills, an' what kind of job do you want? | |
| Ain't so much I know how t' do, y' know? 'Least, not in th' city. Cities're so much diff'renter than th' country. Ev'rythin's all small an' cramped an' dirty, an' th' people're all scurryin' 'round like rats in th' pantry. City folks oughta slow down some an' take an' breather, I reckon. But I�d like t� take a gander at d�liv�rin� mess�ges, like Scottie Bishop does. �E�s a good guy, I s�pose, an� I wouldn�t mind takin� a job where I gots a friend t� help get m�self settled in. | |
| Anything else? | |
| *smiles cheerfully and clicks his teeth* That'll do fer now, wouldn't y' say, sir? Ain't much more t' tell that y' won't find out fer y'self soon 'nough. *pauses* That's a right smart tie y' got on there. *because he was raised to always compliment his host or hostess, and forgot his manners at the beginning of the interview* *smiles and excuses himself* | |
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