Noah Callahan

*scratches behind a sleeping dog’s ears before straightening up and eyeing you suspiciously* Noah Callahan. *tucks his thumbs in his beltloops and leans back, appraising his surroundings*

Right, yer real name?

*gives you a look that’s somewhere between a smirk and a smile, neither friendly nor rude* Would you make up a name like Noah? *snorts lightly, but is amused* I thought not. *smirks widely this time*

Shoa . . . age?

*adjusts the chain looped around the dog’s neck* Twenny-three. *cracks his knuckles quietly*

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

*snorts and squares his shoulders* Write whatevah da hell ya want. *shrugs* *is sturdy, with obvious muscles concentrated in his arms and shoulders, and about 5’11”* *has shaggy brown hair and dark eyes that are always distant and somewhat glassy* *dresses in clean butnondescript clothing*

What's yer story?

Story? Who needs a story? *dryly* *leans down to brush a hand over the dog’s back* I train dogs fer da fights; she’s da only one who I’ve kept. *smirks* She’s a Husky, but she looks like she’s got some wolf-blood in ‘er, so I named ‘er Loup. *rubs his nose absently* Dat’s da end of da story.

Dat da one yer tellin' da bulls?

*quirks an eyebrow* “Gotta make a livin’ somehow.”? *shrugs almost irritatedly* I don’t talk ta da bulls. Nevah been arrested but once an’ I plan ta keep things dat way,thank ya.

Single tanight, or datin'?

*shrugs* Neithah is any good. *doesn’t chase women but wouldn’t discourage any pursuers*

Any weapons? Ya drop 'em on da table.

*rubs his nose absently and pulls a well-used switchblade out from his pocket, dropping it on the table* I want it back. *pauses, then drops a shard of mirror, its edges smoothed down, next to the knife* Not a weapon, but dere ya are. *indicates the dog and shrugs* Count her as a weapon? She can be one. *proud glint to his eyes*

What's yer game?

*snorts* I don’t play games I can lose. *indicates the dog* She ain’t lost but a few times. Dependable. *nods slowly* *is a decent card player, but doesn’t have the patience or mental prowess to play poker or blackjack* *or any other games of skill, really*

Anythin' else we should know?

*shrugs* Watch yer back? Best advice anyone ever gave. *rubs his nose lightly and takes Loup’s chain* *leads her into the building* *is as decent as a petty criminal and a survivor can get, though his mood swings and occasional violent outbursts can be attributed to his heavy use of cocaine*