I hope you don't mind me borrowing your formatting [@Pyxis]

[hider=Smokes]
[center][h3][color=gray]Smokes[/color][/h3]


[color=gray][sub]"Pulvis et Umbra Sumus"[/sub][/color][/center]

[hr]

[color=gray]- N A M E [/color]
[color=gray]	Raymond S. "Smokes" Walker, M.D. [/color]

[color=gray]- A G E[/color]
[color=gray]	33[/color]

[color=gray]- S E X[/color]
[color=gray]	Male[/color]

[color=gray]- S E X U A L I T Y[/color]
[color=gray]	Heterosexual[/color]

[hr]

[color=gray]- A P P E R A N C E[/color]
[color=gray]	Smokes is rather tall and gaunt, spanning 6' 2" when he completely stands up, but a life of being destitute and crippling self esteem make him amble with his back arched. He has a mop of black hair with a few white hairs, and his beard is slowly becoming salt-and pepper. He has a rather keen stare, thanks to the hazel eyes buried deep in his emaciated skull. He has surprisingly good teeth for a homeless. He only owns one set of clothes, ragged and piled up on his body as if to compensate the holes and rips each piece has. He wears worn running shoes and has a large trenchcoat who reeks of tobbaco and has the odd unidentified stain or two. Despite being homeless, Smokes has not sought the company of the bottle, and he does not have the stench of cheap booze with him. [/color]

[color=gray]- B I O G R A P H Y[/color]
[color=gray] There was a man once named Raymond. First Student of his Medical School, doctor and surgeon extraordinarie, who was set up for a lofty life of comfort among wealthy socialites. He swam through expensive parties and expensive friends like he navigate through a patient's insides. The many lives he saved in his career, the technical display he once had, thought in his hubris that he was Asclepius reborn. But a man, no matter how skilled or talented is a man, and negating his own faults with the balm of hubris would set him up for a rather nasty fall.

One too many drinks. Too few hours of sleep, trying to ask for the hospital director's hand. An empty boast to be backup by a display of skill, when cutting the flesh of the significant half of the director. A careless mistake. A tiny nick that breached the fine and delicate vessels of the lifeblood. A carnage. A death in his hands.

Like divine retribution, the fallout was intense and fast, and left Raymond with no money, no family members that could talk, no fiancee, no house and with his doctor reputation forever tarnished... all the while he kept asking why, and kept descending into depression, breaking down even further. Like Icarus, he flew high and hard, too near the sun... and was burned because of it.

Now all that's left is Smokes... one of the many homeless that roam the streets of Blacktown.

[/color]

[color=gray]- P E R S O N A L I T Y[/color]
[color=gray]	Melancholic | Insecure | Thoughtful | Stoic | Caring | Timid | Just | Selfless
	Smokes rarely interacts with other people, and rarely meets the gaze of people anymore, not even when begging for alms in the rare occassion the hazards of being destitute get to him. He has a rich mind, but sparse words to express himself, and most of the time it gives off a vibe of being haunted by the ghosts of his past. In the best of days, he's an amicable presence to those in need, and rarely if ever tries to do something unbecoming or harmful to anyone. 

[/color]

[color=gray]- M I S C.[/color]
[color=gray]	Smokes' whole personality is in shambles after his breakdown due to his hubris and careless medical mistakes. If one were to mend his shattered self esteem, traces of what he used to be will surely resurface, and the brilliance of a successful life might shine again. He is still able to perform medical aid quite efficiently if pushed to it.

Smokes' name comes from the cigarette butts he collects and the stench of tobacco that permeates his clothes. Turns out, it's a life hack, something he's rather proficient at, by exploiting that tobacco repels most bugs and aids in preservation of his clothes and very barebones hygiene. [/color]

[/hider]