kapuchuAnd here's these two. I need a drink.
"I uhh... I make due."
"This is kind of my thing."
"There are some wounds that don't heal."
"Everyone brings something to the table."
"You know how it is, with the back and all."
"Trauma responses are natural. But remember, we don't have to let them live our lives or us."
"Bruh, traffic downtown has NEVER been this good."
"Shit, man. I like what I like."
"Psych wasn't really my subject, man."
"My old truancy officer had a right hook from Satan himself, I bet he could take on these demons. But y'all ain't ready for that take yet."
"Is crushing mad poon a talent?"
"I guess I really got in my bag... Ugh, I'm sorry."
"I only like Death Grips ironically."
╚══════════════╝
"I'll say this much-- we weren't trained for this in basic."[ 59 | 6'/183 cm | Black | He/Him | 230 lbs/104 kg ]
APPEARANCE
"I uhh... I make due."
Tom Lacey, quite obviously from his graying hair and the chocolate tone of his skin, is a bit of an unassuming older black man. He's very much got a bit of an "average" face, mostly unremarkable, save for his near-sight alleviating glasses and a well maintained salt and pepper beard. Physically, he's a bit pudgy, most noticeably the beginnings of a small gut-- (very much a 'dad bod' as his son would say), though his arms and legs still posses muscle from his time in the armed forces. He's bespectacled, he's balding, and despite this, he could pass as younger than middle aged, were it not for the tired gleam one can clearly see from his eyes. Years spent working in exhausting jobs or studying so that he can work, compromising to build up something he truly believed in, only to have it all come crumbling down-- have taken a toll on the youthful glow that runs in his family.
Perhaps as a result of all of his friends who aren't vets being teachers-- Tom dresses like a bit of a college professor. He wears thin sweaters with shoulder pads over button down shirts, slacks or khakis, patterned socks, and some flavor of pleather loafer. Though, since the mist, he tends to forgo layers, either wearing only the button down or the sweater. He favors dark, neutral colors, dark beige, brown, navy, olive and the like-- with white being the only exception. It is very rare for his tops to have any kind of design, he likes monochrome simplicity. Since beginning to traverse the desert regularly, he dons whatever brimmed hat he can find to protect against the sun. The man does have more than a few scars from his time in active duty, though, he keeps these hidden with his clothes-- his most revealing display is rolling up the sleeves of his button-down or sweater, to which a few scars may be visible. He doesn't like talking about them.
Like any esteemed older gentleman, he goes absolutely crazy for sweater vests and Hawaiian shirts.
Perhaps as a result of all of his friends who aren't vets being teachers-- Tom dresses like a bit of a college professor. He wears thin sweaters with shoulder pads over button down shirts, slacks or khakis, patterned socks, and some flavor of pleather loafer. Though, since the mist, he tends to forgo layers, either wearing only the button down or the sweater. He favors dark, neutral colors, dark beige, brown, navy, olive and the like-- with white being the only exception. It is very rare for his tops to have any kind of design, he likes monochrome simplicity. Since beginning to traverse the desert regularly, he dons whatever brimmed hat he can find to protect against the sun. The man does have more than a few scars from his time in active duty, though, he keeps these hidden with his clothes-- his most revealing display is rolling up the sleeves of his button-down or sweater, to which a few scars may be visible. He doesn't like talking about them.
Like any esteemed older gentleman, he goes absolutely crazy for sweater vests and Hawaiian shirts.
PSYCHOLOGY
"This is kind of my thing."
MAIN GOAL Achieving stability.
PHILOSOPHY After losing everything he'd worked years to achieve, Tom focuses less on protecting the world, or broad concepts like that. He can work with individuals-- that, he understands. Right now, the individuals are his son, and one of his former patients. He would sooner die than see any harm come to them.
SECRETS He keeps much of what he has seen in the service a secret. He is fairly tight lipped about the time between being discharged and earning his doctorate.
SEXUALITY Heterosexual.
FEARS Failing.
QUIRKS PTSD.
FLAWS He doesn't like talking about himself, which he knows means some people will be less likely to trust him. He tends to apply therapeutic solutions to more problems that it may apply to. He doesn't practice what he preaches all the time when it comes to his therapy, as he hasn't particularly worked through many of his issues and trauma. Can act impulsively when people he's invested in are threatened.
PHILOSOPHY After losing everything he'd worked years to achieve, Tom focuses less on protecting the world, or broad concepts like that. He can work with individuals-- that, he understands. Right now, the individuals are his son, and one of his former patients. He would sooner die than see any harm come to them.
SECRETS He keeps much of what he has seen in the service a secret. He is fairly tight lipped about the time between being discharged and earning his doctorate.
SEXUALITY Heterosexual.
FEARS Failing.
QUIRKS PTSD.
FLAWS He doesn't like talking about himself, which he knows means some people will be less likely to trust him. He tends to apply therapeutic solutions to more problems that it may apply to. He doesn't practice what he preaches all the time when it comes to his therapy, as he hasn't particularly worked through many of his issues and trauma. Can act impulsively when people he's invested in are threatened.
BACKSTORY
"There are some wounds that don't heal."
What Riley knows of his father is only half the story.
Tom Lacey was born some decades ago to a large but poor family in a small rural town in southern Georgia. His childhood was relatively normal-- he was known for being bright as he grew up and took to his studies with a vigor his siblings and cousins couldn't replicate. He was certainly a citizen of the times and his location, and saw some unsavory attitudes and actions committed by those who saw him as lesser simply because of the shade of his skin. But he was happy, and he still believed in the American Dream in spite of this. So, logically, once he graduated from high school, believing further academia wasn't an option for him, he joined the Army.
His results from the ASVAB, as well as his natural talent with various training meant he has his pick of jobs-- many times it was mentioned he could have excelled as a special operative, or ranger-- his incredible eyesight and aptitude for marksmanship made him a natural candidate. But he always had his eyesight set on the medical path-- his argument was that there was no point in being good at killing, if there was no one there to help you when you got shot at. And shot at he did get. The death and suffering he witnessed during his years in service have left him with scars he might never recover from. It's not that he doesn't believe in the country, or even the Army anymore. So much that, he saw it's effect on people, in particular his brother and sisters first hand.
Coming back home, he found himself unable to reintegrate into civilian life. At first his family was supportive, but with time even they grew cold, not knowing what they could do to help him. Eventually, he made like Otis Redding, and left Georgia to move in with a unit member of his in San Francisco. There he stayed for years, spending much of his time with his new roommate drunk, or high, wasting time and his body. It wasn't until his roommate died from an OD-- something he hadn't considered could happen outside of the shit-- that he got his act together. With a bit of help from the VA, he got himself in school-- starting with an associates from community college, he worked his way up to earning a doctorate. Just like he thought when he first became a medic, he wanted to support the soldiers who made it home-- mentally now, not physically.
A few years later-- add in an affair or two, a kid, a marriage, and an office of therapists that rely on him for support and guidance-- and you've got the overworked mess that is Tom Lacey. At least, you did until everything went to hell, and he was in the shit all over again.
Tom Lacey was born some decades ago to a large but poor family in a small rural town in southern Georgia. His childhood was relatively normal-- he was known for being bright as he grew up and took to his studies with a vigor his siblings and cousins couldn't replicate. He was certainly a citizen of the times and his location, and saw some unsavory attitudes and actions committed by those who saw him as lesser simply because of the shade of his skin. But he was happy, and he still believed in the American Dream in spite of this. So, logically, once he graduated from high school, believing further academia wasn't an option for him, he joined the Army.
His results from the ASVAB, as well as his natural talent with various training meant he has his pick of jobs-- many times it was mentioned he could have excelled as a special operative, or ranger-- his incredible eyesight and aptitude for marksmanship made him a natural candidate. But he always had his eyesight set on the medical path-- his argument was that there was no point in being good at killing, if there was no one there to help you when you got shot at. And shot at he did get. The death and suffering he witnessed during his years in service have left him with scars he might never recover from. It's not that he doesn't believe in the country, or even the Army anymore. So much that, he saw it's effect on people, in particular his brother and sisters first hand.
Coming back home, he found himself unable to reintegrate into civilian life. At first his family was supportive, but with time even they grew cold, not knowing what they could do to help him. Eventually, he made like Otis Redding, and left Georgia to move in with a unit member of his in San Francisco. There he stayed for years, spending much of his time with his new roommate drunk, or high, wasting time and his body. It wasn't until his roommate died from an OD-- something he hadn't considered could happen outside of the shit-- that he got his act together. With a bit of help from the VA, he got himself in school-- starting with an associates from community college, he worked his way up to earning a doctorate. Just like he thought when he first became a medic, he wanted to support the soldiers who made it home-- mentally now, not physically.
A few years later-- add in an affair or two, a kid, a marriage, and an office of therapists that rely on him for support and guidance-- and you've got the overworked mess that is Tom Lacey. At least, you did until everything went to hell, and he was in the shit all over again.
SKILLS & TALENTS
"Everyone brings something to the table."
[Licensed therapist] Tom is more than familiar with the horrors of combat and the traumatic specter of PTSD. As a therapist, he specialized in helping his patients work through trauma, though his talk therapy can be used to work through many issues.
[Combat medic] Tom blew the ASVAB away, as well as his AIT, excelling as a combat medic with his unit. Firing a weapon was a weak point for him, but he was always willing to rush into the line of fire to save his brothers and sisters (earning him more than a few scars and brushes with death). His specialty was stabilizing wounds while under fire and under-supplied.
[Old soldier] At the end of the day, despite it being decades ago, Tom was a soldier, a notable enough infantry medic that he could have gone on to special ops if he wanted. While his body is no longer in it's prime, and he doesn't remember everything. Some things stuck with him like muscle memory.
[Combat medic] Tom blew the ASVAB away, as well as his AIT, excelling as a combat medic with his unit. Firing a weapon was a weak point for him, but he was always willing to rush into the line of fire to save his brothers and sisters (earning him more than a few scars and brushes with death). His specialty was stabilizing wounds while under fire and under-supplied.
[Old soldier] At the end of the day, despite it being decades ago, Tom was a soldier, a notable enough infantry medic that he could have gone on to special ops if he wanted. While his body is no longer in it's prime, and he doesn't remember everything. Some things stuck with him like muscle memory.
EQUIPMENT & GEAR
"You know how it is, with the back and all."
[2017 Cadillac SUV] Not the navigator or repairmen, and certainly not the driver, (he's had his fill, thanks) Tom is the group's lookout, often sleeping during drives and staying up whenever the other two park to get some sleep. If his son wants to handle the driving-- he figures it only benefits them all, and he's glad he got this overpriced ride for that alone. He's not the pack mule he once was, and hasn't really taken to scavenging like his son has, and such keeps pretty much all of his gear in the car. This is mostly clothes, he has the second most changes of clothes of the three of them, though this is still only about a third of Maya's supply. Aside from that, he has his own hygiene products, and has socked away a few rolls of toilet paper and some food from the communal supply for his own use.
[Sturdy pipes] Near the beginning-- Tom and co. were riding through what seemed like abandoned suburbs, looking for others. Eventually Maya and Riley went to look for anything useful, while Tom kept back, He picked up two thick copper, oxidizing green from their time spent without use, from a nearby construction site as he kept his eyes on the road. Giving them a few test swings in the air, he noticed a figure skulking toward the building Maya and Riley were in-- he stopped himself from excitedly calling out when he noticed the gun the figure was holding. Not caring to see what might happen next, he acted on fatherly instinct and old soldier's training-- coming up from behind and subduing the man, despite the risks. By the time the other two came back from their sweep-- the trio had a great lesson about taking more precautions in this brave, new world. They haven't left his side since that incident, when not holding them, he keeps them tucked between his belt and pants. The pipes screw into one another, allowing them to serve as twin bats, or a single spear if Tom wishes-- Riley filed down one of the ends to increase lethality as a spear.
[1911 .45 Pistol] The trio unanimously decided Tom should be the one to hold on to the pistol. He had been particularly fond of gun play in the Army, but he was the only one with actual training. The pistol is all black, and visibly old. Tom has done what he can to maintain it since acquiring it, but an old gun is still an old gun. The magazine had 5 bullets left when they first got it, and since then, Tom has only needed to fire the gun once. Typically it is kept in the glove box if he's near the car, since he doesn't care for having it on him without a holster.
[Sturdy pipes] Near the beginning-- Tom and co. were riding through what seemed like abandoned suburbs, looking for others. Eventually Maya and Riley went to look for anything useful, while Tom kept back, He picked up two thick copper, oxidizing green from their time spent without use, from a nearby construction site as he kept his eyes on the road. Giving them a few test swings in the air, he noticed a figure skulking toward the building Maya and Riley were in-- he stopped himself from excitedly calling out when he noticed the gun the figure was holding. Not caring to see what might happen next, he acted on fatherly instinct and old soldier's training-- coming up from behind and subduing the man, despite the risks. By the time the other two came back from their sweep-- the trio had a great lesson about taking more precautions in this brave, new world. They haven't left his side since that incident, when not holding them, he keeps them tucked between his belt and pants. The pipes screw into one another, allowing them to serve as twin bats, or a single spear if Tom wishes-- Riley filed down one of the ends to increase lethality as a spear.
[1911 .45 Pistol] The trio unanimously decided Tom should be the one to hold on to the pistol. He had been particularly fond of gun play in the Army, but he was the only one with actual training. The pistol is all black, and visibly old. Tom has done what he can to maintain it since acquiring it, but an old gun is still an old gun. The magazine had 5 bullets left when they first got it, and since then, Tom has only needed to fire the gun once. Typically it is kept in the glove box if he's near the car, since he doesn't care for having it on him without a holster.
OTHER
"Trauma responses are natural. But remember, we don't have to let them live our lives or us."
The good doctor's favorite artist is Prince (RIP). But he's also fond of Bowie, Janis Joplin, and Deep Purple when winding down. He has a real weakness for 'Dad Rock' and crime dramas.
... Or Hattie, it's not that big of a deal
╚═══════★═══════╝
"Bruh, traffic downtown has NEVER been this good."
[ 16 | 5' 7"/170 cm | Mostly Black | He/Him | 136 lbs/62 kg ]
APPEARANCE
"Shit, man. I like what I like."
Riley is a lithe, lightly tan-skinned teenager with well maintained, midnight black locs that reach anywhere from shoulder length to halfway down his back, often further braided or kept in messy buns in an effort to keep his eyes clear. His body is of a build that exists somewhere between muscular and lanky-- he would call it 'otter mode'-- still, he is naturally very thin, despite his muscle he is rather unassuming. His face is a perfect blend of his father and his mother; with caramel skin, freckles, and smouldering hazel-green eyes coming from his mother, contrasted with full lips, a prominent nose, and 4C hair directly from his father. Many have described him as being somewhat feminine in appearance, while this happens less frequently as he's gets older, people mistook him for a girl regularly when he was little and his mother's 'soft' features were more prominent. Hoping to fix this somewhat, and not get rid of his hair, he he's been hoping to grow some facial hair. Right now, sadly, to no avail.
As far as fashion goes, he is most easily described as a 'punk.' However, he tends to not get too extravagant with it, dressing as plainly as possible. Go-to options include plain black or white T-shirts, sleeves rolled up or outright cut off-- stolen, of course, black jeans, slim and long, heavily thrifted and usually only kept together by his skill with a needle and thread, and an incredibly reliable pair of doc martin boots he's had since middle school, skidded up to hell and back. While those are interchangeable, his two staple articles of clothing include a black, military-style hat, and more recently an oversized leather jacket.
Both items are unique to him in that, at any time he'll have sewn multiple patches on, or attached any variety of buttons-- any color in his fashion comes from these. The jacket has been particularly altered to have increased functionality. Notable, among various patches and buttons for local bands or revolutionary slogans, is a personally constructed recreation of the Black Panther Party logo made against the black leather using white thread and floss, and a fairly large black crow, with a thorny red rose held in it's beak, a design of his own creation, made using similar methods and homemade dyes. The jacket, while newer, shows signs of wear from how frequently it is worn-- it it's not worn directly on his body, he's got it wrapped around his waist. The hat is also clearly worn, from being near constantly used for over 5 years, were it not for the alterations, the thing would have fallen apart.
The only other physical aspects of note are a chipped canine tooth from an incident post-mist, and nose and ear piercings as well as small tattoos on his lower legs, not professionally done, certainly not approved of by his father.
As far as fashion goes, he is most easily described as a 'punk.' However, he tends to not get too extravagant with it, dressing as plainly as possible. Go-to options include plain black or white T-shirts, sleeves rolled up or outright cut off-- stolen, of course, black jeans, slim and long, heavily thrifted and usually only kept together by his skill with a needle and thread, and an incredibly reliable pair of doc martin boots he's had since middle school, skidded up to hell and back. While those are interchangeable, his two staple articles of clothing include a black, military-style hat, and more recently an oversized leather jacket.
Both items are unique to him in that, at any time he'll have sewn multiple patches on, or attached any variety of buttons-- any color in his fashion comes from these. The jacket has been particularly altered to have increased functionality. Notable, among various patches and buttons for local bands or revolutionary slogans, is a personally constructed recreation of the Black Panther Party logo made against the black leather using white thread and floss, and a fairly large black crow, with a thorny red rose held in it's beak, a design of his own creation, made using similar methods and homemade dyes. The jacket, while newer, shows signs of wear from how frequently it is worn-- it it's not worn directly on his body, he's got it wrapped around his waist. The hat is also clearly worn, from being near constantly used for over 5 years, were it not for the alterations, the thing would have fallen apart.
The only other physical aspects of note are a chipped canine tooth from an incident post-mist, and nose and ear piercings as well as small tattoos on his lower legs, not professionally done, certainly not approved of by his father.
PSYCHOLOGY
"Psych wasn't really my subject, man."
MAIN GOAL ★ He wants to do whatever he can to help keep everyone alive and protect the people he cares about. To see his mother and her side of the family again. To see his friends again. He just met Maya, but it would kill him if anything happened to her. He even wants see his father's side of the family in deadass nowhere Georgia again.
PHILOSOPHY ★ Riley believes, perhaps too optimistically, that people can organize to get through this. That everyone has things they want to protect, things they've lost-- by working together and organizing, things can be better for everyone.
SECRETS ★ Self-done tattoos from his father. He picks up on things his father and most adults may think he doesn't. His drug and alcohol use-- you guessed it, from his father.
SEXUALITY ★ Heterosexual. Though, his talks with Maya have made him think on it.
FEARS ★ Being a hindrance. Failing to protect or help anyone.
QUIRKS ★ Jokes when nervous. Almost never seen without a hat-- hence, 'Hattie.'
FLAWS ★ Questioning authority, while useful, does have its drawbacks-- for Riley, this borders on fanatic rejection of almost any authority figure. Can fall into flights of idealism. Him being quick on the uptake leads to over confidence, combined with his age and general inexperience-- this can lead to a lot of failures for him. He hasn't fully developed many of his skills and talents due to both to that youthful inexperience and his general slacker-like nature.
PHILOSOPHY ★ Riley believes, perhaps too optimistically, that people can organize to get through this. That everyone has things they want to protect, things they've lost-- by working together and organizing, things can be better for everyone.
SECRETS ★ Self-done tattoos from his father. He picks up on things his father and most adults may think he doesn't. His drug and alcohol use-- you guessed it, from his father.
SEXUALITY ★ Heterosexual. Though, his talks with Maya have made him think on it.
FEARS ★ Being a hindrance. Failing to protect or help anyone.
QUIRKS ★ Jokes when nervous. Almost never seen without a hat-- hence, 'Hattie.'
FLAWS ★ Questioning authority, while useful, does have its drawbacks-- for Riley, this borders on fanatic rejection of almost any authority figure. Can fall into flights of idealism. Him being quick on the uptake leads to over confidence, combined with his age and general inexperience-- this can lead to a lot of failures for him. He hasn't fully developed many of his skills and talents due to both to that youthful inexperience and his general slacker-like nature.
BACKSTORY
"My old truancy officer had a right hook from Satan himself, I bet he could take on these demons. But y'all ain't ready for that take yet."
Riley's father wasn't always a hotshot celebrity therapist able to afford a comfortable life for him and his son. No, before Riley was born, Doctor Lacey was actually a student at UCLA-- in his 40's, the man clearly stuck out from his peers, but more than his age-- his fierce dedication to earning himself a doctorate, while getting practically no sleep as he worked to keep his lights on while doing so, earned the attention of many of his professors. One in particular, a sociology professor interested in the vet who wanted to help his fellow soldiers suffering from PTSD, took a very keen interest. One thing led to another-- and the affair became a full on relationship-- following the spark of love, came a baby, then came marriage.
The first years of Riley's life were relatively normal. His mother and father loved him, and he loved them back. He was a precocious child, gifted in many ways, some may say-- with as much of a talent for learning as his father and just as kind and passionate about causes as his mother. As he grew though, his parents had less and less time for him-- his father graduating and going on to throw himself in his work, "saving the soldiers" as he would call it, and his mother became tenured leaving her even less time with the family. This bothered him at first-- but he learned to live with it-- supplementing the lack of affection with his extended family and friends he could do stupid things with.
The divorce between the parents was amicable, sparked by his mother accepting a position halfway across the country at some ivy league school and his father growing his firm fully dedicated to helping vets and PTSD sufferers, requiring him to take on high profile clients and celebrities to supplement the lack of income from some of the poorer vets and homeless clients his office would help. They both were further engrossed in their work-- his father made sure Riley knew not to blame himself. Instead, Riley came to blame the system that made things this way, one should be able to help people while still living in the moment, enjoying life for themselves-- this reading of the situation would strongly influence the person he would become in the following years.
While initially the parents wanted some flavor of joint custody-- the two agreed it would be better for Riley to spend more time in California, with his friends. Every other summer he would visit his his mother, who, to her credit, would have ample time for him since school was out. His time spent with his father, however? It wasn't really time spent with him-- Riley had been fairly self-sufficient from a young age due to how much his parents worked, but after the divorce Riley almost never saw his father unless he was passing out from work, or grabbing a coffee before heading in. Riley spent most of this time out with his friends, going to concerts, drinking or smoking, or otherwise doing some 'delinquent hood shit' as he would call it. His interactions with his father came in doing little thing, like preparing meals for him, doing his laundry, or otherwise taking care of him in some way. The nature of their relationship, to Riley, at least, was less that of a father/son and more like two roommates taking care of each other, which Riley actually liked quite a bit. The only time his father ever chastised Riley was when he got his piercings, and even then, it was mostly light chiding due to how tired the older man was.
From the day he got his permit on, Riley was picking up and dropping off his father at work. In fact, that's what he was doing when the mist came. His father was with some producer lady-- things were so bad she got in the car with them. And they've been together ever since.
The first years of Riley's life were relatively normal. His mother and father loved him, and he loved them back. He was a precocious child, gifted in many ways, some may say-- with as much of a talent for learning as his father and just as kind and passionate about causes as his mother. As he grew though, his parents had less and less time for him-- his father graduating and going on to throw himself in his work, "saving the soldiers" as he would call it, and his mother became tenured leaving her even less time with the family. This bothered him at first-- but he learned to live with it-- supplementing the lack of affection with his extended family and friends he could do stupid things with.
The divorce between the parents was amicable, sparked by his mother accepting a position halfway across the country at some ivy league school and his father growing his firm fully dedicated to helping vets and PTSD sufferers, requiring him to take on high profile clients and celebrities to supplement the lack of income from some of the poorer vets and homeless clients his office would help. They both were further engrossed in their work-- his father made sure Riley knew not to blame himself. Instead, Riley came to blame the system that made things this way, one should be able to help people while still living in the moment, enjoying life for themselves-- this reading of the situation would strongly influence the person he would become in the following years.
While initially the parents wanted some flavor of joint custody-- the two agreed it would be better for Riley to spend more time in California, with his friends. Every other summer he would visit his his mother, who, to her credit, would have ample time for him since school was out. His time spent with his father, however? It wasn't really time spent with him-- Riley had been fairly self-sufficient from a young age due to how much his parents worked, but after the divorce Riley almost never saw his father unless he was passing out from work, or grabbing a coffee before heading in. Riley spent most of this time out with his friends, going to concerts, drinking or smoking, or otherwise doing some 'delinquent hood shit' as he would call it. His interactions with his father came in doing little thing, like preparing meals for him, doing his laundry, or otherwise taking care of him in some way. The nature of their relationship, to Riley, at least, was less that of a father/son and more like two roommates taking care of each other, which Riley actually liked quite a bit. The only time his father ever chastised Riley was when he got his piercings, and even then, it was mostly light chiding due to how tired the older man was.
From the day he got his permit on, Riley was picking up and dropping off his father at work. In fact, that's what he was doing when the mist came. His father was with some producer lady-- things were so bad she got in the car with them. And they've been together ever since.
SKILLS & TALENTS
"Is crushing mad poon a talent?"
[Naturally talented driver] ★ Riley was first put behind the wheel, at his own insistence, as early as 13-- while his father and mother couldn't always make the time to give him lessons, he took the few he got in stride. Easily earning his learner's permit at 15. He became his father's personal chauffeur, as well as the designated driver for many of his friends. His driving can be characterized as very defensive and fluid, capable of maneuvering quickly in cumbersome vehicles. He's been driving regularly for a little over a year now, and this is easily his most developed skill.
[Decent cook] ★ In growing up the way he did, he had to learn how to make meals for himself very early on-- later even doing most of the household shopping by himself. As such, he can whip up tasty meals with little fuss. Though, he tends to focus more on taste than nutritional value in his meals.
[Amateur mechanic] ★ He has some idea of the fundamentals for repairing motor vehicles and doesn't mind getting dirty under the hood. One summer, he and his friends fixed up a moped purely out of boredom. There's some overlap there, but it's mostly apples to oranges. And his self-taught patchwork repairs are no substitute for an actual trained professional.
[Sewing] ★ A skill learned from his time with the crusty kids. So long as he's got a needle-- he can perform basic alterations, repair most rips and tears, and sew in fairly professional looking patterns.
[Physically active] ★ You skip classes to smoke some pot with your friends enough times, and you'll run into trouble with the law. Luckily, Riley is physically active and fairly quick on his feet.
[Excellent eyesight] ★ This is inherited directly from his father who also had a marksman's eyes when he was young. Riley doesn't have the training or practice his father did, that made the man capable enough that he could have been a sniper with the rangers-- but the boy's sharp eyesight does help in various ways. Since the mist, he's grown accustomed to driving at night without lights on and has good enough visual acuity that he can notice things far in the distance before others.
[Misc. Skills] ★ Riley, in addition to his more practical skills and talents, does have a few situational skills he brings to the table; Notably, he is a talented artist, with an eye for graffiti and design. Another skill picked up from the older punks is DIY tattooing and piercings-- currently he's limited by only knowing how to make black ink, as well as using a held sterile needle instead of a gun. His designs for tattoos need to be simple and small as a result of this, but he has a few permanent reminders on his body that he does know what he's doing. Hairdressing is another talent of his, maintaining his locs is something his extended family taught him when he was very young, and he currently serves as his father's barber. In the time before the mist, Riley was good enough at shoplifting to either not get caught, or at least be in a good enough of a position to run away from security when he did. Lastly, while not an official skill with much use in combat, Riley was decent at a game he and his friends used to play, in which they would get high stab at each other's hands with knives. Usually switchblades-- his is currently held by Maya, though.
[Decent cook] ★ In growing up the way he did, he had to learn how to make meals for himself very early on-- later even doing most of the household shopping by himself. As such, he can whip up tasty meals with little fuss. Though, he tends to focus more on taste than nutritional value in his meals.
[Amateur mechanic] ★ He has some idea of the fundamentals for repairing motor vehicles and doesn't mind getting dirty under the hood. One summer, he and his friends fixed up a moped purely out of boredom. There's some overlap there, but it's mostly apples to oranges. And his self-taught patchwork repairs are no substitute for an actual trained professional.
[Sewing] ★ A skill learned from his time with the crusty kids. So long as he's got a needle-- he can perform basic alterations, repair most rips and tears, and sew in fairly professional looking patterns.
[Physically active] ★ You skip classes to smoke some pot with your friends enough times, and you'll run into trouble with the law. Luckily, Riley is physically active and fairly quick on his feet.
[Excellent eyesight] ★ This is inherited directly from his father who also had a marksman's eyes when he was young. Riley doesn't have the training or practice his father did, that made the man capable enough that he could have been a sniper with the rangers-- but the boy's sharp eyesight does help in various ways. Since the mist, he's grown accustomed to driving at night without lights on and has good enough visual acuity that he can notice things far in the distance before others.
[Misc. Skills] ★ Riley, in addition to his more practical skills and talents, does have a few situational skills he brings to the table; Notably, he is a talented artist, with an eye for graffiti and design. Another skill picked up from the older punks is DIY tattooing and piercings-- currently he's limited by only knowing how to make black ink, as well as using a held sterile needle instead of a gun. His designs for tattoos need to be simple and small as a result of this, but he has a few permanent reminders on his body that he does know what he's doing. Hairdressing is another talent of his, maintaining his locs is something his extended family taught him when he was very young, and he currently serves as his father's barber. In the time before the mist, Riley was good enough at shoplifting to either not get caught, or at least be in a good enough of a position to run away from security when he did. Lastly, while not an official skill with much use in combat, Riley was decent at a game he and his friends used to play, in which they would get high stab at each other's hands with knives. Usually switchblades-- his is currently held by Maya, though.
EQUIPMENT & GEAR
"I guess I really got in my bag... Ugh, I'm sorry."
[2017 Cadillac SUV] ★ This is, for all intents and purposes, Riley's car. It's his baby, and the overuse and strain it's seen since all of this started is killing him. He can give basic repairs-- but it's giving out soon-- he's good enough to at least diagnose the various issues, and repairs he can't make. He'll be sad when it finally goes. It's terrible what's happening, sure, but the freedom he's had on the road since this all began is something he could only dream of before. Inside the car he keeps a few cans of food, some spices, two changes of clothes, and some cleaning/hygiene or keeping the clothes and himself from smelling too bad.
[Bags] ★ Both black, with one clearly designed for students, and the other travel. The big one contains 4 rolls of duck-tape, a roll of toilet paper, a multi-tool, sharpies, pens, and a notepad, needles and thread, a tube for siphoning gas, a length of wire, two bottles of water, assorted spice packs from ramen and sauce packets from entirely too many fast food places, as well as silverware both metal and plastic, a nearly empty travel container of hand sanitizer-- and a well read book of poetry. The smaller, is less filled, it's got more pills than Riley would care to mention-- he was always a weed person before all this, so he doesn't really use them to get high while scavenging or driving-- but they do reliably help him get to sleep. He's holding the bag for Maya because he's worried she may just OD if she had it to herself.
[Leather jacket] ★ Cumbersome in the desert sun, perhaps. But this jacket is invaluable for keeping warm at night. It's a sturdy enough leather to keep you protected from scrapes and cuts when you fall, and he has further altered it to include many more pockets in the interior than it originally had, allowing him to keep all kinds of things on his person. They range from things like an adjustable wrench and lighters to his car keys and his phone and charger, he's even got some candy and a few emergency joints squirreled away.
[Bags] ★ Both black, with one clearly designed for students, and the other travel. The big one contains 4 rolls of duck-tape, a roll of toilet paper, a multi-tool, sharpies, pens, and a notepad, needles and thread, a tube for siphoning gas, a length of wire, two bottles of water, assorted spice packs from ramen and sauce packets from entirely too many fast food places, as well as silverware both metal and plastic, a nearly empty travel container of hand sanitizer-- and a well read book of poetry. The smaller, is less filled, it's got more pills than Riley would care to mention-- he was always a weed person before all this, so he doesn't really use them to get high while scavenging or driving-- but they do reliably help him get to sleep. He's holding the bag for Maya because he's worried she may just OD if she had it to herself.
[Leather jacket] ★ Cumbersome in the desert sun, perhaps. But this jacket is invaluable for keeping warm at night. It's a sturdy enough leather to keep you protected from scrapes and cuts when you fall, and he has further altered it to include many more pockets in the interior than it originally had, allowing him to keep all kinds of things on his person. They range from things like an adjustable wrench and lighters to his car keys and his phone and charger, he's even got some candy and a few emergency joints squirreled away.
OTHER
"I only like Death Grips ironically."
A few songs from a typical Hattie playlist:
