ANDERSSON, FLOYD COOPER

[hound]

FLOYD COOPER ANDERSSON !?
’every crime in Oklahoma was added to his name.’

FULL NAME Floyd Cooper Andersson
NICKNAMES People only call him The Pretty Boy behind his back.
AGE 25 years
GENDER male
BIRTHDAY November 24
SPECIESFaerie
ALLIANCE Dark.
SEXUALITY Heterosexual, but most complicatedly so. Panromantic fits in this spot as well.

PLAY-BY Tell Carlson
EYES deep dark blue, quite round, but not huge.
HAIR Dark, flat laying, shoulder length.
BODY TYPE Slim… actually, Floyd is a bit flimsy.
HEIGHT 5’11”
WEIGHT 150 lbs.
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES
STYLE Floyd likes to make himself look nice. He believes that it’s in the gambler physique to do so. He likes his suit jackets. Money isn’t an object, not in his position. Never will Mr. Andersson leave the house without his sunglasses—it just isn’t done.

LIKES At least 10.

• Gambling
  
• Playing Robin Hood
  
• Big dogs
  
• Sarcasm
  
• Drinking—in moderation. He simply enjoys the taste of alcohol.
  
• Not being in control of a situation
  
• Winning. At any cost he will win.
  
• Violent video games
  
• Long books
  
• Sharpie markers—this man is always doodling on something with them.
  

DISLIKES At least 10.

• People trying to take away his control
  
• Watching sports on TV—especially cage fighting and NASCAR
  
• Being idle
  
• People criticizing his look, his style
  
• Sports cars—he feels they’re pretentious
  
• The law (for which he has great disrespect)
  
• Thinking too much about demise, death, and other bloody business
  
• Llamas (there was an incident when he was child)
  
• Doing any sort of dirty work for himself
  
• Being drunk, high, or tripping—it puts him out of control of his situation
  

STRENGTHS At least 4.

• Bluffing
  
• Manipulation
  
• Calmness under pressure
  
• Gambling
  

WEAKNESSES At least 4.

• Interpersonal relationships
  
• Cleanliness
  
• Commitment
  
• Cooking—he can screw up ramen noodles.
  

HABITS At least 3.

• Nail biting
  
• A tendency to fidget with whatever jewelry he’s wearing—rings, bracelets, watches.
  
• Forgetting things—his keys, wallet, driver’s license. The man would forget his head if it wasn’t attached.
  

FEARS At least 3.

• Death—there’s nothing that Floyd fears more than death itself.
  
• Losing—at anything. It drives him off his nut.
  
• Anyone that shouldn’t know finding out about what lies beneath the glamour.
  

DESIRES At least 1.

• All Floyd wants is to never, ever lose and never be caught and charged for what he’s done.
  

SECRETS At least 1.

• He keeps the fact that he’s a Robin Hood close to his chest. Though he fights for the dark side, Floyd often makes charitable donations with what he’s won and stolen. Most of these go to animal charities, sure, but he’s kept the doors of a few soup kitchens open.
  
• His sexuality and lack thereof is something that he can’t stand. It worries him deeply, makes his blood run cold.
  

OVERALL
What’s in it for me? Yeah, that’s Floyd’s reaction no matter what you ask him. If there’s nothing that could benefit him in the situation, don’t bother asking. This is a young man that isn’t above laughing in your face. He’s got a silver tongue but he’s all talk—if you catch Floyd off of his trained dialogue that silver tongue turns to lead right quick. It’s quite funny to watch really. Once you get him off his game, this is a man that’s likely to stalk away like a petulant child.

Floyd is a faerie. He’s perfectly happy exploiting the fact that he can fade to entirely invisible and draw on the emotions of others. To be perfectly honest, one of the reasons that he’s made so much money at a poker table would be in the fact that he’s always sure when a human is bluffing. The invisibility… well, that’s brought Floyd the ability to take what isn’t his. Cash drawers left unattended at chain stores are his favorites, left open for the picking. He’s gone as far as to take cars from dealerships, but he’s smart enough to let those go within a few hours—wouldn’t want the cops catching on, after all.

Floyd is obsessed with winning. It doesn’t matter what happens, he’s going to come out on top of what he’s trying to do. If he hits a losing hand at the poker table, he won’t be getting up until he’s won back everything he’s lost and then some. There isn’t a give up or give option—Floyd will keep going to the point of obsession.

What hasn’t quite hit this young man yet is the fact that he’s on the dark side of this war. He doesn’t really know what it means to be a part of anything—he’s got some commitment issues. The idea of starting something and sticking with it makes him nervous. This includes in relationships—it might be why he’s been so unsuccessful with them.

Relationships are something that Floyd has never had much to do with. He’s been into girls in a sexual way for a long time. This is a young men that’s spent the last… well… long while in Las Vegas. Prostitutes are something he’s no stranger to, and with money like his there’s nothing to worry about. If Floyd is ever going to fall in love, sex can’t be a part of the relationship. It’s become an act that’s 100% depersonalized and drives him nearly crazy. This is a man that might have the possibility of loving anyone that could love him back.

MOTHER Grace Jane Ryder- 52 years old, living in Maryland and teaching high school English.
FATHER Cooper Jude Andersson- 55 years old, living in Arkansas, gynecologist. (Parents have been divorced since Floyd was 12.)
SIBLINGS

• Jane Amanda Andersson- 17, living with her mother.
  
• Blake Jacob Andersson- 24, attending school in Washington DC.
  
• Maria Grace Kay-Andersson- 30, married with two kids, living in Florida.

OTHER PERSONS OF IMPORTANCE Floyd’s come for a fresh start. No one is terribly important right now.
ETHNICITY German, Dutch, and Native American.
WEALTH STATUS Personally, Floyd has a nice chunk of change. He has a tendency to blow it, but he gambles for or steals whatever he needs if he’s short.
OVERALL
Floyd was born into a fairly normal household. The second of four children, never was there a dull moment when he was growing up. Try stuffing six faeries in the same house—that’s what they call crazy. Up until he was ten, the house was simple chaos. Not only were siblings often at each other’s throats but the pranks were crazy. At 15, 10, 9, and 2 anything that could have gone wrong did go wrong. Floyd spent all his time messing with his older sister at that age—more than once did he change her perfume with bug spray, gift wrap all the things on her bedside table, and freeze her tooth brush in the cup. It was childish, but he felt grand doing it.

In September of the year Floyd turned 10, his parents split up. The stress of living with four children and a husband was too much for their mother. The courts deemed that holidays and every other weekend would be spent with their father. The rest of the time they would be cooped up in the house with their mother. You see, it wasn’t a bad house, but the children nearly went crazy cooped up with each other for that long. They all survived.

Floyd left the house when he was 18. A spur of the moment trip to Las Vegas on an evening when he may or may not (was) drinking lightly brought him to the game that’s made his living—poker. The first night he turned the $20 in his pocket into $500. By the end of the three days he’d planned to stay, Floyd found himself sitting among the high rollers. With a fake ID that said he was 21, his life was grand. Las Vegas was where he needed to be.

But like with all things, Floyd soon got bored. He took to petty theft, then not so petty theft. Never did he get caught, simply bored. He’s made his way around the country, taking what he feels he can without drawing too much attention. Anonymous donations to various animal shelters in desperate need and the occasional soup kitchen that’s on the brink of failure have been the only thing to mark Floyd’s travels. This is simply the next place to hit up.

NAME/ALIAS Hound
AGE sweet 16
TIME ZONE Eastern Standard
HOW YOU FOUND US Prose originally
OTHER CHARACTERS Morgan Jones.
RP SAMPLE a pony post from earlier.

Cam happens to be a girl of simple tastes. She enjoys sleeping in, screwing with the local fauna, and poking dead things. Today happened to be a day when she had two of three of those grand things. The sun had been high in the sky before the mare dragged herself from her hiding spot in amongst the foliage that bordered the Falls and the Peak. She hadn’t picked a home yet, but she’d heard someone say that, for a mare, the Peak was the safest place on the Islands. Anyway, the girls were attractive, so she was fine to sit and watch as they came and went. No harm, no foul, no commitment—perfect.

The mare had come to the beach on the lovely, early spring afternoon and seen two dozen crabs washed up on the shore. They were just hanging about, looking confused. Cam couldn’t help it—she’d picked one up and tossed it into the sea. It was with as much force as she could muster to fling the little shell dweller, and she couldn’t help but enjoy it. The next one met her striped hoof, flying off into the ocean as well. It had been a lovely way to spend her morning. The thing was, the paint had learned, crabs have claws. There were several small cuts along her lips and coronets, still bleeding sluggishly now that it was later into the evening. The white in her coat around these areas had turned a rather unpleasant shade of pink, but it was okay. Cam was okay.

The mare had decided that she would set out on her friend search once more. She didn’t have to go far before spotting a stallion standing with a mare—a usual site, it seemed. Instead of it being just them, there was a colt clinging to his hip. Well, not really even clinging. The colt looked like he knew what was going on. Now, Cam would usually deem it a family gathering and move on. Still, this one had a quality to it that was not quite familial. The colt was closer to the stallion, his stance on the mare not determined yet by Cam’s glance. Maybe it wasn’t her son after all.

As she neared, the builds differed enough where the mare could deem it wasn’t family. She approached with her strangely clumsy half trot, half walk, still bleeding sluggishly from the wounds that hadn’t clotted yet—superficial cuts, no big deal. It did give the paint a bit of a macabre look, but she wasn’t worried. Instead, she closed the gap between the three and herself, ears flickering forward. ” ’lo, strangers.” There’s nothing unkind about the way she looks upon the pair of men and the lady. There’s nothing unkind about Cam. She might just be a little awkward.

[JURATE]