Knox Wainwright

*takes off his hat and runs his fingers through thick, sandy blonde hair* Knox . . . Knox Wainwright? *speaks in a thick as molasses Southern drawl that makes every sentence sound almost like a question*

Right, yer real name?

Yes, sir. Y'all don't really think I'd make up a name like Knox, do ya? *grins affably*

Shoa . . . age?

Twenty one and a half.

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

*blinks slowly* *glances down at himself, then looks a bit suspiciously at Greg* I ain't that bad, am I? *grins a bit* *is a wiry 6 foot, leanly muscled, saved from skinny only by the years of working on his grandparents' farm* *has sandy blonde hair that tends to flop into his brown eyes or get tucked behind his ears, sharp features that end in a somewhat pointed chin, and a charming, unassuming smile that pulls it all together into someone quite attractive*

What's yer story?

*runs a hand through his hair* Um. I'm from Biloxi, y'all know where that is? Down in Mississippi? *grins* Alotta people don't know where it is. I lived with my grandma and grandpappy, until Gramps passed away a few years back, then Grams did too, just last summer. So I came North. Always wanted to come North, but I never actually meant to end up in New York City. But here I am. *smiles*

Dat da one yer tellin' da bulls?

*looks mildly perplexed* Bulls? Oh, you mean the cops. *grins* Yeah, I know, don't call me a hick, I ain't one. *scratches his head* I ain't - I mean, I haven't made the acquaintance of any yet, and I'd really like to keep it that way, ya know? A record might be kinda detrimental to getting into medical school.

Single tanight, or datin'?

*reddens the slightest bit* Oh, me? I don't really date much. Not that I don't want to, I'm just not too, you know, smooth with ladies. I tend to stick my foot in my mouth alot. *is very gentlemanly and polite, if somewhat easily flustered* *is half in love with all the waitresses at the Nickel, but can't seem to choose one to ask out, and probably wouldn't be able to find the courage to do so anyway*

Any weapons? Ya drop 'em on da table.

*places a set of brass knuckles on the table, looking somewhat shamefaced* I don't live in the best of neighborhoods. *apologetically*

What's yer game?

Poker, blackjack. Anything that'll take my money. *grins good naturedly* *is not a particularly good gambler, and tends to lose more than he wins*

Anythin' else we should know?

*runs a hand quickly through his hair* Not that I can think of. I work down on the docks, unloading cargo and all. *shrugs a bit* *wants to eventually go to medical school and become a doctor, but has a problem with saving his money because he tends to gamble and lose more than he should* *is close friends with Macgregor Douglas, and can usually be found drinking and gaming with him*