[hider=John Moore][b]Name[/b]: John Moore

[b]Gender/Pronouns (as applicable)[/b]: Male (he/him)

[b]Race/Species[/b]: Human (with coyote spirit). 3/4th english, 1/4th Cherokee

[b]Age (Real and apparent)[/b]: 21 and he looks it.

[b]Appearance[/b]: 'Street' would be the best way to describe John to anyone who cared to ask. He throws on whatever baggy pants he can grab, whatever t-shirt he can don, and he combs his mane just enough to keep it out of his eyes. His dark features accompany his lithe, youthful frame nicely, though considering he lacks fashion or care it's mostly wasted. With a tanned physique and strong, callused hands, his amber eyes reflect light like they were wrought of a reflective metal. They're even more striking than the sterling silver necklace he wears under his shirt, emblazoned with the symbol of the coyote.    

[b]Personality[/b]: Many would call John lazy, sarcastic, ungrateful, and various other less than stellar terms. To a point, they're right. He's a hard worker when pressed, but he enjoys slacking off when he can. Sarcasm and jokes are his bread and butter when he's not complaining. In essence, he's the typical college dropout, unhappy with his lot in life and his lack of options, just finding humor and brevity where he may. Of course, as per cliche tradition, deep down he's a caring, good man with hopes and dreams and courage in the most unlikely of places. Unfortunately, the Spirit inside him keeps him annoyed enough and disrupts his life enough to where this 'unpolished gem' rarely shows its face. When the Coyote takes over, even for a moment, John goes from facetious to cackling, his expression transforms from choleric to a fiercely sardonic, and in flirtatious situations he even goes from awkward to smooth. John has started getting used to walking away from situations without remorse, just trying to keep the consequences of his actions from reaching him. All from waking up in the middle of a hairbrained situation the Coyote has dragged him into, whether it be in a stolen car, the bed of a stranger, or eating Trix at 3 AM watching animal planet. One thing is for sure, he's definitely put his mind to controlling the Spirit, showcasing he has the will to do so when he applies himself. [b]What he really wants is to turn his affliction into a positive, and thanks to his tracking skills he thinks he's found his niche. Secretly he feels the agency is good security for if he goes crazy with the spirit, but he would never admit it.[/b] 

[b]Powers, Traits, and Abilities[/b]: John himself can street fight when he needs to, and he's been given basic firearms training by Priest & Hawthorne. What he really has pivotal knowledge on are cryptids and animistic spirits, and how the mind of a thief works. 

His Coyote Spirit is what truly makes him notable, though it's also the complication. At the funeral of his grandfather, he was given his grandfather's old pendant, unknowingly cursing himself with the wraith-like animal thing. Now apart of him, it's turned his life upside down. On the bright side, John has enhanced hearing, smell, and eyesight. He's also a bit stronger, faster, and dexterous than he used to be, though not to any large degree. [b]He can track spirits and aberrations when under the influence of the coyote, and with his speed he can help find most things the agency hunts.[/b]  

Unfortunately, the curse has a tendency for the spirit to 'overtake' him sometimes, forcing himself out of his body as the spirit takes over to commit mischief and feel the free air once more. John's had to deal with it for a year, which led to him dropping out of college, losing most his friends, and deciding to move out of Jacksonville to join Priest & Hawthorne. Thankfully, he's gotten used enough to it to keep the spirit most suppressed. It's when the two work in unison that he becomes truly powerful. 

When that happens, his body transforms into what appears to be a sixty pound coyote, able to see into the spirit world. Any wounds inflicted on it are healed when he reverts back to his normal body. 

He had heard stories of werecoyotes, with the shape of both coyote and man. But he hasn't quite reached that point yet. He's just trying to have a normal life at this point.   

[b]Background[/b]: 

"Yes, I know." He sighed, leaning against the wall, a hand pressed to his forehead to vainly keep the migraine down. Advil had done little, and the 'fresh northern air' wasn't the cure all he had been told. "Look, I'm not trying to argue. Let's just agree that the best thing to do is to let you take him for awhile. I know he'll miss me, but I'm not responsible enough for him. Not right now, just trust me. I'll wire some money to you to pay for his vet bills..." 

A glazed look came over his eyes as his brows narrowed, showcasing the face he would make were he face to face with her. "I like how you say you're a cat person, because on my end you're sounding like a real bitch." 

He hung up, vastly aware of just how much he was going to pay for that later in guilt and time. He knew, in ten years time, breaking up with Margo was going to be one of his biggest regrets. The last two months hadn't been easy, and he'd become particularly vulnerable to his condition. It was after he nearly hit someone with his car that he knew he needed help, and a new life. He was a survivor after all, just like the spirit. Unlike the coyote, he needed a job and a healthy way to deal with his problems. 

He pushed off the wall, just about to step into the crowd to go hitch a ride with anyone he could, when his keen vision caught the sleight of hand of a pick pocket three meters away. It almost seemed like a dream, and he felt it as much as saw it. Somehow the coyote knew where to look. For the briefest of moments, he was about to go and attack the thief, without provocation or a back up plan. But he was in enough trouble as it was. Instead, he caught up with the lawyer-looking guy who was suddenly a wallet short.  

"Hey," he said, patting his shoulder to catch his attention. The rolling of the suitcase faltered as he turned, confused and a bit bemused. John pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "See that guy in the green hoodie? He took your wallet." 

The college kid was already walking away as the man felt for his wallet and realized it was gone. 

[b]"Hey, you! Stop!" He cried behind John's back, and the boy felt a weird leather [i]thing[/i] in his pocket at just that moment. Suddenly, he realized [b]he[/b] had the wallet! John opened his mouth, and then hurried away, caught between helping the man by giving it back and admitting to a crime he knew that thing inside of him committed. 

"Why did you take his wallet!?" John hissed to what seemed no one. In his mind he heard snickering, and a...feeling cascaded over him, like a message but without words or images. Just a conveyed meaning he could decipher. John almost laughed at the realization that the spirit simply wanted to one up another trickster, regardless of the consequences. Looking back on it, he recalled the moment the coyote took over and swiped the wallet from the other thief. John was getting better at catching it, but he needed more focus. 

He felt like he was walking through a spiderweb growing more and more taut as he walked out of the airport, carrying the wallet further away from its rightful owner. He was just scared and alone, in a new city with some psycho curse or insane mental condition. Once he made it out of the parking lot, he started to run down the street even as it began to rain. He ran until he found himself in the city, suddenly surrounded by towers of stone and steel. He clutched at the wallet and backed into an alley that was more occupied than he originally thought. 

"You took that wallet from me!" A nasally voice accused, and John spun around to see a... a small man. A small [i]green[/i] man, with a red beard. John pointed at him, his brow furrowing. 

"You're a leprechaun." He stated. He was too weirded out to say much else. "A guy stole a wallet, not someone as short as you." 

"Yes, I am laddae! And I can appear as a tall folk if I wish! That wallet is going in me pot of gold!" The diminutive sprite declared, and floated there expectantly. John blinked, because he had the distinct impression there was a con going on here. It was like he had a second type of vision, for he saw a cloaked form gliding like a hanglider over to nab the money in John's hands. The young man couldn't see the creature he believed was fake until two seconds ago. But in the shade of the alley, his dark eyes glinted gold, and suddenly he could not only see the invisible thing, but smell the sprite. Inside his mind, he heard chortling, and his hand shot out to grab what he shouldn't have been able to see. 

"What!?" The leprechaun gasped, flummoxed. Vainly he wiggled his short arms, trying to break free. John pulled him up to eye level, and smirked. Moments later, he had thrown the leprechaun in the dumpster, and took a long wiff of the wallet. He realized he was going to come clean and find the man back at the airport. He could track him.

Two days later, he found himself just at the front of a building the spirit had guided him to. Just before him, [b]Priest & Hawthorne Investigations[/b] was stamped on the building. 

He figured he could do field work. He needed the money after all. [/b]
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