Basic Information
Name: Richard Stock
Nickname(s): Dick
Age: 15
Height: 4'9 (Freshmen), 5'2 (Sophomore), 5'4 (Junior), 5'5 (Senior) ft
Weight: 127 (Freshmen), 134 (Sophomore), 139 (Junior), 141 (Senior) lbs.
Blood Type: B-
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Eye Color: Hazel
Hair: Dirty Blond
Pass Time Information
Hobbies: Driving, Biking, Writing Stories (usually recording someone else's), Cleaning, Drinking Tea
Talents: Manners, Jack-of-All-Trades, Being Quiet, Cleaning, Cooking, Driving, Biking, Perception, Insight, Working Hard
Favorite things:-A Full Cup of Tea
-A Full Tank of Gas
-A Clean House
-A Comfortable Bed
-A Good Set of Shoes
-A Good Book
-A Good Story
-A Good Storyteller
-A Good Suit
-A Good View
-A Lovely Smile
-A Stiff Drink (Even If He Has a Low Tolerance)
-A Good Shag
-Waking Up Next to the Lovely Dear
Miscellaneous:-Will never be a passenger and will walk himself, due to his severe motion sickness. This aversion extends to buses, airplanes (he has to be thoroughly sedated), and boats. Failure to take heed will consequently see him turn green in the face, before swallowing awkwardly and summarily passing out.
-Does enjoy milk and sugar with his tea, though usually in the privacy of his own home, away from prying American eyes.
-Does NOT like being carried in any way, shape, or form. He will consequently stiffen or clear his throat irritably and glare terribly.
-He absolutely hates being sick and the lack of productivity that being ill inspires. This does not stop an annual occurrence of him succumbing to a flu, strep throat, severe cough, or something which inspires him to sleep heavily, supplemented heavily with cups upon cups of citrus and herbal teas. In light of schools and testing, he will take to donning air filter masks, being the socially conscious creature that he is, and keep all social contact light.
Mental Information
Personality: Due to his upbringing, Richard will initially come off as quiet or shy, which he is anything but. However, he was raised to speak briefly and with brevity... usually limiting himself to five syllables a sentence, turning him into something of a walking Haiku. His personality really shines through when he is doing something, and rarely is he never doing something, raised to be productive at all times. He tends to be studious and does his assigned jobs thoroughly and completely, usually going above and beyond, unless the task at hand falls under the small range of things that he obstinately will not due and stubbornly so.
Richard will usually come across as someone very easy to get along with due to his lack of words, his listening ear, and his catering personality, as he actively tries to improve situations he finds himself in. He actively avoids showing any and all vulnerability by being a "doer." This will make him sometimes decidedly indifferent and cold at times, functionally distancing himself from people.
Mentality: He will come across as strong and positive, his mind always seeming to focus on the next task at hand. However, as pragmatic as he tries to come off as, he is undoubtedly at his core a romantic in how he works and especially in how he interacts with people, seeming to hold differing auras and personas (while not too different from his core self), depending on the situation. A time to work means he will focus on the task with utmost seriousness. Being a driver means he will focus on driving and providing as efficient a ride as possible. Being a student means being quiet and attentive. Being in a fight means appearing far more confident and self-assured than he might be (being tough). Being with a woman means focusing on giving her the best night possible.
Ideal: "Be Productive."
Belief: "I come from good stock."
Physical Information
Build: Scrawny (Freshmen). His build will change and differ depending on his actions throughout his high school career.
Defining Marks: None yet.
Description: He's a short guy who appears quite lean even for his stature. He tends to wear long-collared white long-sleeved shirts, usually with a black jacket and pants. His black shoes will either be sneakers (exclusively for PE) or something much nicer, with short white or black socks. His hair is long and straight, but as a Freshmen he still favors it, bundling it into a simple ponytail.
History Information
History: Richard awoke in cold sweat, leaning up abruptly. He found a set of arms that were not his own trying to tug him back down to bed, but the effort was sleepy and not even half-awake. Awkwardly sliding his arms out from between the brunette's, the topless young man shifted his legs over the side of his bed, contemplating.
...Was it just a dream?
Militia. Crows. The nuclear missile and then the end of the world. The fight against a man named... Bar... Barkley... Barkus... Rebar. Something. All the mutated people. The underground and the darkness filled with cannibals and cruel people. A wasteland of a California.
All that loss. All those people.
Groaning quietly, he slumped his face into his unusually freezing wet hands.
It felt so real. So detailed. So many things...
But that couldn't be. He dreamed of a lifetime, of a world that was not his. He lived an entire life in the desert, in the sand, probably to the age of thirty. Which was impossible.
He was just fifteen.
Like a reoccurring dream, reaffirming his reality, he quietly crept out of the bedroom and into his small kitchen next door, putting a good three cups on the kettle. Apparently he was still suffering from the plane ride over to the U.S., even the memory making his face slightly green.
In his head he went over himself out of habit---perhaps a sign of how often he dreamed this other... world.
He was Richard Stock, fifteen years old, a transfer from the U.K.
His dad was Hamilton Stock, thirty-seven years old. His mom was Sherilton Marie Stock, thirty-three years old.
His dad was a drunk, uneducated, and quite severe. His mom was a saint and taught him all his good traits, inspiring him to further heights.
His dad knew how to share a drink, how to take apart a car, and knew how to teach driving manual. His mom was patient, encouraging, and taught him his style.
His dad would never be proud of him, no matter how hard he tried, and is the reason he was sent here to America. His mom knew the truth and knew in reality that they could not provide for him sufficiently as parents.
His dad taught him lessons he would never forget. His mom was the one he would nonetheless miss.
Quietly pouring himself out a cup of black tea, he looked back at the stove which had inadvertently become covered by a pair of eggs, toast, and bacon. His companion, sniffing out the food, morosely drew herself out, covered in a blanket. With a wave of his hand, he offered her breakfast for the satisfactory evening and she obliged.
After excusing herself, the young man took stock of his new apartment for the umpteenth time since moving here, at how much freedom he had been allocated for moving to notorious "trouble school." And for the umpteenth time, he could not help but think that the school couldn't be that bad.
And so, the young man began his morning hygiene ritual, as he got ready for his first day of school...
