[@Blop]
Hey blop, I went ahead and wrote up a little sampler blurb about the potential character I had in my head-granted the post is a lil rough but givein more context of events goining on/an actual location I'm fairly confident I could polish future posts a bit better. Hope ya enjoy the brief read though.

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Like most nights Mr. Delaporte had been spending this rather stormy evening holed away within his lavish mansion overlooking the French countryside; on this particular night he had been in the library absent mindidly thumbing through a rather old and weatherworn book. Twirling a rather expensive looking piece of crystal filled with amber brown liquid in his free hand he couldn't help but chuckle inwardly at the thought that these days he had more in common with the ancient looking book sitting in his frail lap then he did with most real people. 

The inner display of laughter was extremely brief however; cut short like usual as a wave of guilt assailed his conscience. [i]How many moments of peace like this had he robbed from others in his youth? How many men and women never got the chance to smile again, let alone laugh?[/i] Thoughts like this were especially hard to block out on nights such as these; nights when the weather itself seemed to be manifesting in some dark way to mirror your very inner demons. Luckily the bourbon helped somewhat. 

He was In the process of pouring himself yet another drink when the familiar rapping sound of hand on wood echoed through the rather quite library. To be more precise it had been three well spaced purposeful knocks-the rhythmic sound automatically allowing old man Delaporte to know just who was on the other side. Without pulling his slender frame from out of the comfy looking red lounge chair he sat in he called towards the only pair of doors in the library. [i]“Yes, yes, come in my boy!”[/i] 

The matching pair of large darkly stained oak doors opened in one fluid motion followed up with a rather shrill creaking sound. [i]The hinges need oiling[/i] Dismas took note-he'd have to remember to tell Francis this while he was here; Francis being the rather thin but somewhat dangerous looking red headed youth now filling up the doorway. Clutched tightly beneath his right arm and the side of his chest was the evening newspaper while each of his hands tightly held a wooden tray of which contained a prim and proper looking dinner plate with all the needed silverware. Tonights menu was apparently fried chicken, gravy, mashed potatoes and a biscuit-the sight of which quickly reminded Dismas how he had off handidly been telling Francis he so desperately wanted to try American cuisine. Apparently now was his chance.

If he was being perfectly honest Dismas was somewhat fond of young Francis; not only did he take care of most of the cooking and shopping for the relic of a man but Dismas couldn't help but see a good bit of himself in the boy-a much younger, suaver, and dangerous version of himself admittedly but nonetheless whatever part it was he could still see it plain as day. 

Dismas had been doing his best to keep the lad away from trouble with a steady job and genuine responsibilities. He couldn't help but wonder how he himself would have turned out had he in fact had a mentor in a similar fashion. 

Laying the book he'd been examining moments ago on the same small round wooden table that now likewise held his glass of bourbon and soon to be dinner. [i]“Throw a log on the fire would you boy? These old bones aren't what they used to be.”[/i] Dismas croaked with a toothy old grin while feigning a shiver in his maroon bathrobe. As Francis did what was asked of him he finally spoke up, his odd accent reminding Dismas that Francis was more then likely not his real name. Nonetheless Dismas listened with all the genuine attention one could muster while trying fried chicken for the first time-that is to say he asked Francis to repeat himself. Twice.

[b]“Wut I was sayin sir is, ifn you were allright with it an all sir, is there anychance I could take jus a wee bit o leave? Just enough to go see the kid sister? You see she avent been returning my letters as of late and, well bein perfectly honest Mr. Delaporte, I'm worried. Y'see last few letters she was ramblin about monsters and odd happeninins goin on but I just wrote it all off as her bein, well, I dun rightly know what? Point is I just didn't take her serious. Now though I's thinkin-”[/b] 

[i]“-Woah, woah, woah, back up there Francis my boy. Take a seat.”[/i] Dismas gestured towards the similar chair opposite him with his old wrinkled hand that was now clutching the glass of bourbon yet again.[i] “I think it's best you start from the top. And pour yourself a drink boy, helps calm the nerves. One way or another, we'll get to the bottom of this.”[/i]
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