[center][color=brown][h2]George Henry[/h2][/color] 
[img]https://i.imgur.com/xyrSpe8.png[/img]


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If there was one thing his ma and pa had taught this young gentleman, it was that hard work and courteousness were important, desirable traits that all individuals should own. As an actual person, George Henry was not what you would call a paragon of these attributes. He was sometimes prone to being led around like a bull, letting irritation and disrespect to him or his family get the better of him. Sometimes he'd get on a high horse and it'd take reality's heavy fist to knock him off before he'd realize his wrongdoings. But for better or worse, Henry did truly desire to act as his parents wished. He owed it to them for raising and supporting him through childhood and allowing him the opportunity to pursue his interests. 

A truth to these killing games is that they're prone to causing change in the survivors, for better or for worse. 

For George Henry, who was known publicly for being quite the kind individual, this change was rather unfortunate. Having suffered, like all, through the constant fear of death, the sorrow of losing a friend, and the anger of being betrayed, Henry was unable to remain as he once was. The truly sad thing is that it perhaps changed him for the worse. One might say that he simply matured to view the world how it should be seen, but innoncence can never be regained and a loss you can't recover from is always significant. By the time he'd been put on the elevator and taken elsewhere, very few traces of the old Henry remained buried behind the accent. Merely a cold, paranoid shadow of his old self. 

...

...

...

Henry had been leaning against the back wall of the elevator as it climbed (or descended) to its new destination, waiting patiently for it to stop. He recalled his first elevator trip. He wasn't alone on that one, and had even made friends with the people he arrived with. He remembered being reassured that there were people he could depend on and, of course, he recalled being devestated as those very same people either died or betrayed him, or both. Henry was glad this trip was spent in solitude as he no longer had the luxury of feeling safe in an isolated, confined space with another human being. Sadly, all good things must come to an end. The elevator reached its destination, and the doors had opened. 

George wasn't exactly wearing a friendly expression when he exited the elevator and then spoke in a loud voice. [color=brown]"Well, I'll be damned!"[/color] he exclaimed, an almost arrogant smirk on his face. [color=brown]"Ain't you guys quite the posse! Though I reckon bandits would only give a hearty chuckle were you to ride up. Ya'll'd've got to be the scrawniest bunch I ever did lay my eyes on."[/color] [s]he commented, ignoring the fact that I FORGOT TO EDIT HIS DAMNED APPEARANCE HE'S SUPPOSED TO AT LEAST HAVE ARMS THAT AREN'T STICKS REEEEEEEEE.[/s]

[color=brown]"I don't suppose there's a place to wet my whistle 'round here is there? I swear, if there's one thing this hospital is lacking..."[/color] he started to trail off but caught himself. [color=brown]"Oh, anywho, I'm George Henry. Ya'll can call me George or Henry, ain't matter much to me. S'pose I should tell ya'll in the hopes that it ain't my carcass ya'll discover next."[/color]