Johnnytrash

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

"Bingo"

Seeing the disturbance arise, Brent knew that this would be a great place for business. Brent ponders to himself, "The engineer, a somewhat unpleasent fellow, has caused a reaction in the Lizard. Was it something he said, or something he did. Or Perhaps the Lizard has never been a fan of him. Which would mean the Lizard comes to the station often, or he may even work here. He is obviously an officer of the law, It would make sense if he worked here. The Lizard could be a nice client. Law enforcers see some terrible things causing night terrors, which turns into insomnia, which causes depression, which could lead to anger issues. The engineer might be good for business too tho. Working day in and day out. One of the most important job with a station full of ungrateful savages. He probably works his heart out and hardly ever gets the gratitude he deserves. His "thank you's" comes in the form of a paycheck, but never from the people's mouth. Not being recognized as an important person can sometimes cause depression, and in his case, could turn into alcoholism."

Brent knew that he could easily stop this situation, but letting it continue would help him gather more information about the two men. Perhaps a rebutle by the engineer is necessary. However stopping it now would keep the chance of violence at a low.

@User Without a concrete plan in mind, Brent called out across the bar, "Splinter, was it? If you need a drink, i'd be happy to buy a few for you. I was just thinking to myself it was getting a little warm in here, but now that the vent is fixed, it feels great. Let me pay for your next couple drinks as my appreciation." Brent motioned for the engineer to come on over to the section of the bar he is sitting at.

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

Brent looks towards the bartender after receiving his drink, and responds. "I am a psychiatrist. I help those who have problems such as depression, night terrors, suicidal thoughts, abstract thinking, and anger management." He takes a sip of his beer and sits for a moment. He notices a younger looking lady with some discolored skin, but nothing too horrible-looking to say she isn't a pretty lady. She also seems to be getting a lot of attention from the rest of the members at the bar. "It would be foolish to try and start a conversation with her, she would think I'm just another drunk trying to buy her a drink." he says in his head.

Brent sits and continues sipping on his beer. He thinks to himself, "This is beer number two. judging by the condition I was in, I should be able to have at least seven before getting too hammered. But perhaps I should try to stay somewhat sober, maybe even talk to the nice looking lady once the crowd dies out." He looks towards the bartender and asks, "So, get a lot of business around here?"

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

Before taking his seat: Brent replies "I'm here for job oppertunities. It may just be a visit, but if the clientele is good, I'll stay here until I can't afford to pay for my drinks". The troubled psychiatrist walks to his seat.

After a moment of a nice calming envirement, the Doctor Hears the familiar bartenders voice and looks up to see him talking to a space-Lizard. "A Jekult?" He whispers to himself. Brent only knows a little about the Jekult from his boxing days. They were in a class all there own due to the amount of hits they could take. An opponent would lose all there stamina before having a successful, damage inducing hit. Few heavyweight boxers try every year to fight in the Jekult class, but are rejected due to the number of previous boxers that have died while boxing them.

"Damn Lizards" Brent thinks.

A little while longer passes and Brent finds that his beer has magically evaporated into thin air. After a brief moment of thought, he realized that he may have finished it awhile ago. Concluding that to be the case, he approaches the bartender once again and says, "can I get another of what I just had, please?"
He reaches into his wallet and grabs some currency out of it and places it on the table. "This should cover this one and the last one", he thinks to himself, as he cautiously looks around for the Jekult completely forgetting there was one in the bar. While waiting for the bartender to bring him his drink, he quickly scopes out the place for any women who seem worth talking to.

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

“Dr. Brent Bradford”

Pulling in to the docking port, a Gold plated limousine containing the rich and famous Brent Bradford starts to prepare for the departure of this spacecraft. He opens his briefcase and glances over it to see if all his money making drugs are there. He smiles at the medicine as he quickly closes his briefcase as his eyes melt into pure excitement for opportunities to expand his successful...

Brent Bradford wakes up from his happy dreams, due to a small amount of wadded-up paper hitting his face. He shakes his head, his loosely-tied tie and a pool of drool are shaken violently away from him. He stops and tries to regain his vision after that tremor of a head shake. He opens his briefcase looking for his newly acquired pill case with one remaining pill. There's a note on the bottle stating what day he took the drug, to remind him in case the drug has made him forget short term memory subjects. Under the date is the name of the drug given by himself, deduced from studying the ingredients in the drug. This is so if he doesn't live to tell people this drug is deadly in the future, at least they will have a general idea on what this drug is. The last thing on the bottle is the safe combination written in a different language. He used to tell his friends it was full of all his possessions and riches, however in reality it contained his living will that only a member of his family could translate.

He writes on the bottle:
“cures mild cases of night terrors.
side effects may include night sweats and drooling.”

On to the next matter, who threw the paper at him? He looked around to find who had the guiltiest looking face. “Found you.” he whispers quietly to him self. He begins to stand up, just now remembering he was on a cheap transporter shuttle. Committed to make things even, he walks towards the thrower-of-papers, and grabs a clean handkerchief from his shirt pocket and hands it to him. He congratulates him for waking him up before he missed his stop, and hands him the handkerchief. “This magic handkerchief is a pass me down in my family from generation to generation, the kindness you have displayed just now is more than deserving to be family to me. I want you to have it. It's self cleaning and it is lemon scented”. This handkerchief is infused with a drug called “tetraphyline”. It just so happens to kill 100% of germs, and has a natural lemon like scent. However, what Brent failed to mention was one whiff of this certain citrus smelling drug causes intense sneezing.

He turns around away from the gentleman and returns to his natural depressed state as he walks towards the ship's airlock. “Could've just asked if I was awake, jerk” he whispers under his breath. As the shuttle reaches the docking bay of the Tsiolkovsky Station, a slight gleam of hope awakes in the heart of the doctor, while job opportunities appear in his mind. He starts to smile... then it turns to a smirk.

“wishful thinking”.

Brent starts towards the bar, as is usually his tactic. Drunk people are honest about things. You can tell a lot about a man's problems when they are drunk. And if there isn't any one needing his assistance, he can slip a drink every now and then to help the day go faster. It's a win-win.

He heads that way and arrives moments later. He goes in and orders a beer and goes to the comfiest looking booth, waiting for anything or everything. he takes small sips out of his beer and begins thinking. “Bring the sick to me” he says in his head as he begins to smirk. “I can cure it all”!

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

Yay!!

Gakuen Kill: Academy of Assassins

Sounds like my type of RP. I am definitely interested. I will suscribe and wait patiently.

Cheers IN SPAAACE!

Name: Brent Bradford

Race: Human

Age: 37

Gender: Male

Appearance: 6 foot, 205 pounds, tan human man. He has short black hair and matching goatee. Not the most muscular looking human, but not unattractive.

Personality: Depressed, nicotine addicted, and deeply troubled booze-hound

Skills: psycho analysis, former heavy-weight boxer and drinker, and professional healer

Reason for Visit: Looking for job as a psychiatrist within the space station, and getting a few drinks while there.

Bio: Brent was a normal human boy child from Mars who did nothing but go out of his way to help those who needed it. After time and time again of failing to impress complete strangers or help them with their problems, he decided to go to school to learn how to treat people of such illnesses involving the brain. Upon arrival of schooling, he was shocked to find out how much it would cost to learn such knowledge. But determined to treat those who needed him, he took up boxing as a way to help raise money. Learning the ins and outs of boxing and getting into the mind of the people he was fighting, he was able to become the heavyweight champion for a short time, earning the money he needed for school. Shortly after, he retired and proceeded to learn. 8 long years of schooling, he was handed a license to treat the unhealthy. Now he wanders searching for work becoming more and more depressed with every drink he consumes and every stop he visits that does not require his special services.

Equipment: Hand-wraps, boxing gloves, a briefcase full of psych drugs and hallucinogens and a license to prescribe and treat those with both psych and health problems, a concealed switchblade pocket knife, grappling gun, pipe, and a fair bit of money from drinking contests

Position applying for: Psychiatrist.

Stranger

I keep a pretty open mind.

Thank you Mr. Jim.

Stranger

I'm just here for some roleplays and for my friends. Not big into talking to strangers, but that should go away after a few shots at this