Roof Second Floor Lobby Back Door

Beak Jauncer 'ey kid, watcha name? ::A very thin, lanky young man looks over at you. He holds an odd L-shaped stick in his hand.:: My real name? Thomas Jauncer, but no one calls me that. 'ave you been blessed wit a newsie nickname yet? ::He smiles and puts a hand on his bony hip.:: Yep. Tha Beak, or jus’ Beak. Where'd dat come from, anyway? ::He taps his nose with a long index finger.:: This. I’ve been know as Tha Beak ever since I lived in Canada. It was my nickname there, so I jus’ brought it down with me. ::Twirls the stick expertly with one hand.:: When's yer birthday? Know how old ya are? ::He nods.:: July 13th. I turned 19 last year. He rolls his eyes.:: I’m startin’ ta feel old. Whatcha look like? ::He shrugs and goes back to watching the stick he’s twirling.:: Well, I’m not really that much to look at, ta be honest. Jus’ an average Joe. Short brown hair, brown eyes—well, actually that’s up for debate. Some say they’re brown, others say they’re dark blue. ::He shrugs.:: I really don’t care, personally, but hey. If they wanna fight it oat: I say let ‘em. ::He pauses messing with the stick and holds it in both hands.:: I’m tall enough, that’s all I’ve got ta say aboat that. ::He’s 5’12 and a half. He’s very thin and lanky, but isn’t weak. He’s one of those guys who’s muscle you don’t see unless they’re using it. His upper lip is much thinner than his lower, adding to his bird-like appearence.:: I’m from Canada, as if you couldn’t tell from the accent. ::He places one end of the stick on the ground and rests his hands on the other end.:: And wadda ya like, huh? Got mucha a personality? ::He laughs and picks up the stick again, hitting the thicker end against the bunkposts nearest him.:: Not really. Like I said, jus’ an average guy. I like ta laugh, an’ I hate being depressed or sad or anything like that. ::He holds the stick in both hands again.:: This here’s my prized possession. ::Laughs when you look at him as if he’s crazy.:: It’s a hockey stick. See, up in Canada, we play hockey. It’s a game, like football or baseball—but better. ::Swings the stick up, and behind him, eventually having it come to rest against his shoulder. He’s very nation-proud, and isn’t afraid to show it. He’s also brave, rather blunt, and emotionally strong.:: So... where'd ya come from an' watcha doin heah? ::Cocks a brow.:: Eh? I told ya, Canada. You Yanks don’t listen, do ya? I came here when my parents decided to send me down here for schoolin’. I didn’t like that idea much, so I didn’t go. I came here instead. Livin’ tha life, ey? Don't s'ppose ya got any friends, do ya? Oh yeah, got tons. Jus’...not here. I was real popular up there ::He jerks his thumb towards the ceiling.:: but now that I’m here...well, it’s hard to start over, ya know? I'm startin' to get close to a few of tha other lodgers, but it's a slow process What about a, uh, signifigant othah, hmm? *wink wink nudge nudge* ::Laughs heartily and puts the stick behind his neck, resting his arms along each side of it.:: Nope, not yet. Hard to believe, eh? I've gone through my fair share of crushes here...just gave up on one recently, matter-a-fact. Right now I'm just layin' low an' stakin' out the place. Waddya do 'round heah? Sell "papes", like everyone else. Other than that...pretty much nothin’. Not many folks down here even know what tha game ::hockey:: is, much less play it, so I hafta make do by m'self. If ya emptied ya pockets right now, what'd be in 'em? ::Leans his stick against his side with a protective arm around it and roots around in the aforementioned pocket. He glances down at his hand when he pulls the contents out.:: A button...a piece ‘a paper...a coupla coins...an’ a marble I foun’. Anythin' else we oughta know? ::Shoves the things back in his pocket and picks up the stick one last time.:: Keep'way from my lumber. ::His stick.:: But that’s my only rule. Back to the bunkroom