Jack Cooper

*sits in his 'office', reading a newspaper, as usual* *without looking up* Jack Cooper. Obviously. *glances up for a moment to give Daley a not very nice look*

Right, yer real name?

*is not amused* *ignores the question*

Shoa . . . age?

*a vague sense of irritation creeps into his voice* Twenty-eight.

Appearance? Or do I jus' write down 'ugly as sin' an' save ya da trouble?

*without looking up* Ha ha. *is tall and well muscled, but not huge* *he has shaggy brownish-blond hair and opaque brown eyes, and rarely smiles, if ever...it's suspected that he's oblivious to the concept of humor*

What's yer story?

*very carefully sets the newspaper down* None of your f***ing business. *he was born in Chicago, where he was in a street gang, eventually rising to the rank of it's leader. After taking over another gang, the members mutinied and he pissed off yet another gang by threatening their territory. He was forced to leave (to preserve his status as 'among the living'), and moved to Philadelphia, where he joined another gang and took over by killing the leader and threatening to do the same to anyone who opposed him. Eventually, however, a break and enter sabotage job went wrong, the gang's headquarters were raided, and one of the gang members was caught and forced to rat to the police. Jack, wanted for other crimes such as murder and bank robbery, at first thought he would stay in town. After the police got closer, however, he decided to catch up on a personal vendetta, and came here, where he joined the River Cats with the plan of repeating his Philadelphia takeover. Unfortunately, John O'Riley, the Cats' leader, caught on, and eventually decided to deal with Jack somewhat permanently. Jack managed to get out before his impending doom, but was too overconfident to leave NY. He's sticking around, with the hopes of settling the aforementioned personal vendetta, as well as catching O'Riley with his guard down and finishing his takeover routine. He bought the Nickel as a place to hide out and supplement his income.*

Dat da one yer tellin' da bulls?

That whole 'none of your f***ing business' bit was a hint. Drop it.

Single tanight, or datin'?

*gets a warning look on his face* *is single* *is too paranoid to trust anyone enough to date*

Any weapons? Ya drop 'em on da table.

*is so not amused* Daley, this is getting old. *has a few knives and a gun on his person, but plans on taking full advantage of owning the place by not leaving them at the door*

What's yer game?

*shrugs* Poker, blackjack, craps...whatever. *goes back to studied boredom*

Anythin' else we should know?

Nope. *decides that this constitutes the end of the conversation and picks up the newspaper again, rather pointedly*