let the {sun} rain down [D3 Bootleggers]

He's essentially a man who looks approximately twenty-two. However, he's only twenty. Mysterious, brooding, disguised? Those are simple attributes that the general populous associates with him. He is quite attractive, after all, he does have to be charming, no? What would a charming man be without his gorgeous looks? Well, perhaps gorgeous wouldn't be the correct word. Attractive, yes, but gorgeous? Maybe not. To a degree, but most of his charm and his winning smile make up for what he lacks. Oh yes, his eyes, those vivid eyes. Maybe he isn't gorgeous, but his eyes certainly are. Most people can easily be entranced by his eyes. Smooth talking man with gorgeous eyes. What could go wrong?

At times, people wonder if he is bipolar. He can be both cunning and charming, as well as manipulative and cold. Interesting, no? He's got a bit of a temper, but no matter. He's the kind of the actors. He can pull his angry grimace into a dazzling grin, if it is called for. All in all, he's quite the soul. As manipulative as he is, he does have a heart, somewhere.

Quirks: He likes hugging Laki, he enjoys playing with her hair, and he likes sitting on roofs. He enjoys nature, but only to a degree. He likes cleaning (dear god don't tell anyone), and he's skilled in the art of sketching.

A few drops of sweat formed along his brow line. They beaded, collecting and eventually, drip, drip, dripping onto the floor. The cold, stone floor that held one of District Three's more important secrets, or so he liked to think. HE was quite the unique person. His father's mother knew how to create this beautiful concoction. Of course, his father frowned upon the creation of illegal substances. This certainly didn't stop HIS grandmama from teaching him the art of creation. Of course, he only relied on himself for the fabrication of this... staple. This... necessity. It gave both himself and his dear partner in crime, quite literally might I add, the resources to live. It was their main crop, so to speak.

Dear god was it cold. HE wasn't too sure if it was simply the weather or that PEACEKEEPER'S NAME had warned him about the arrival of new forces. However, his beauty could not wait. He needed to finish the batch that specific day, or else it would spoil, and spoiled moonshine was certainly... bad. It was a waste, a disgusting thing. HE could not let that happen. Besides, obtaining the fundamental materials was quite the work. Ethanol didn't come by the tub, but in specially marked bottles, only sold to certain people. Of course, HE had some ties and procuring ethanol and various other ingreedients wasn't too terribly difficult.

A soft knock came at the door, just as he was about to test the liquid. The only problem was that this knock was not a coded knock, but a rapid rapping of knuckles. Cursing below his breath, HE covered the station and placed various other bottles of medicines on the top. Once the mountain dew was concealed, he calmly made his way to the door. He creaked it open, only to mutter, "And who might it be at this ungodly hour?" The only light he previously had on was the candle light. Although district three had much finer accommodations than, say, district eleven, candle light was the best for this kind of process. It was dim, but not too dim to the point of blindness, just strain. However, it was something that HE had gotten used to by now.

The unknown man gruffly mumbled a name and the word, peacekeeper. Cursing again, only in his mind, HE opened the door a tad more an painted a small smile. With sparkling eyes, he gestured for the man to enter the home. "What brings you here, sir?" He asked with great gratitude in his voice, almost as if he thought that the poor arrival of the man was an honor. "I do say, however, my home is quite the messy little abode. Pardon, sir." He said, nodding and grinning. It was quite clear that the little man was becoming overwhelmed with HIS charming attitude, something unexpected for someone who was disturbed in the wee hours of the morning.

The man spoke of neighborly complaints, that obnoxious sounds were being emitted from that very home. Confused, or well, seemingly so, HE sighed softly and looked down. "I do apologize, good sir. You see, ever since my brother was killed during the fifty-seventh hunger games, I've had nightmares. My other siblings, being taken away, brutally murdered, and..." he went on, describing in gory detail as his imagination carefully transmitted the image from HIS mind to the peacekeeper's.

-raises hand-

I would um, love to be a part of this. I'm creating a new charrie. Her name is Joule Van Casper and I'd be really happy to RP her as maybe The Muscle, or even just a Patron (18 year old patron lol). I love the idea very much and I'll have Joule done ASAP. Hope to hear from you [: