"I'M NOT LIKE THEM, BUT I CAN PRETEND."
TUCKER ODIN WILSONTUCK•OR OH•DIN WILL•SONthe basicsNICKNAME: tuck
ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral LOCATION: washington, d.c. BIRTHDAY: april 5th SEXUAL ORIENTATION: straight HEIGHT: six foot two HAIR: dirty blonde / light brown EYES: hazel OCCUPATION(s): mechanic / combat instructor / special ops character interviewHis head tilted to the side, an eyebrow risen in curiosity as he leaned back enough to put the blade he'd been sharpening to the side on the table behind him, the whet stone that had been resting on his knee following to lay next to it. "Why would you want to know about me?" The smile was thin, pleased, as he let a chuckle roll through his chest in genuine amusement. "I'm sure there's someone else you can go to if you want to know something... My daughter, perhaps? Or any number of my family members."
Rolling his eyes, his neck followed the motion as he turned to pick up a small handgun from the arsenal strewn about the table, popping the cartridge out and carefully beginning work of dismantling the firearm. "My sister, the neurologist, my brother, the cardiovascular surgeon, my mother, the pediatric nurse? Or perhaps my father, he runs a hospital back in Olso." The bitterness was obvious, but he dispersed it with a harsh laugh, a small twinkle of pride in his eye. His family were good people, and successful with what they did. "I'm the black sheep. My family helps people for a living and I suppose, in a very roundabout way, I do the same, depending on how you look at it. Mostly, I'm just the one putting people in the ground... Or in the hospital, if I miss." Thankfully for him, he rarely missed. Grinning, he reached for a cloth, cleaning each piece of his gun without looking down at it, gaze never leaving the newcomer. Frowning, he considered his own words for a moment. "I don't want you to think I'm a bad person because of what I do, though. I adopted that little girl when she was just a kid because her mama decided she didn't want her, anymore, and her papa couldn't have her, either. Not after everything Isabelle said about him in court..." He shook his head, as if one good deed were enough to repent for all the sins he'd done while in the service. "She's a good kid, and I think I'm better for her." He gave a nod, as if to affirm what he had said, before pieces of his gun started clicking back together. FUN FACTSDOMINANT HAND: left
SMOKES: when stressed LANGUAGES: norwegian, english, russian TATTOOS: none PIERCINGS: none GLASSES: no COFFEE OR TEA: coffee MORNING OR NIGHT: morning CATS OR DOGS: dogs PET(S): none A BOOK: war of the worlds by h. g. wells A VIDEO GAME: skyrim AN ALCHOL: beer / sherry |