Oliver Mills

*looks up from his cards with a sardonic smirk* *speaks with a self-assured, cultured voice* Oliver Benson Mills IV. *does not mention that he is the nephew and legal ward of Wendell Mills, the Bostonian textile baron, as he assumes you should already be aware – and in awe – of this* You may call me Oliver. *as if he is granting your dying wish*

Right, yer real name?

*haughtily* What reason would I have to lie to someone of such a low stature?

Shoa . . . age?

Twenty-two years and three months. *is counting down the months until his twenty-fifth birthday, when his trust fund becomes legally his*

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

*arches an eyebrow* *is not “ugly as sin,” thank you, is quite nice-looking, and is well aware of this fact* It seems as though I’m not the only one who could benefit from an ivy league education. *is tall, 6’2”, with fashionably styled brown hair and clean, neatly manicured nails* *has strong facial features dominated by a straight Aquiline nose and piercing brown eyes, sharply observant of his surroundings, that are the only of his features to save him from an expression of complete and utter laziness*

What's yer story?

*looks almost, but not quite, amused* There isn’t anything I can tell you about my family that you shouldn’t already know. *was expelled from both Yale and Princeton, one for gambling away the fencing team’s hard-earned money, and the other for an efficiently hushed scandal involving the Latin professor's now-expecting seventeen-year-old daughter* *was sent to Manhattan to attend NYU and, hopefully, not embarrass the family further* *is finally, under threat of having his trust fun eliminated, paying attention to his studies, when he isn’t gambling away his allowance at the Silver Nickel with his friends*

Dat da one yer tellin' da bulls?

*looks offended that someone would dare speak to him in such a manner* *sniffs indignantly* I refuse to even dignify that with a response.

Single tanight, or datin'?

*is slightly mollified now that the interview has moved on to a new subject* *offers a quick, easy grin, for the first time showing that he is not as stuffy as he comes across* I believe my current situation is referred to as being between relationships, but looking. *is not looking for a girlfriend, per se, just female company*

Any weapons? Ya drop 'em on da table.

*drops the grin* None. My uncle would terminate my trust fund if he knew I was frequenting places of business that would require me to carry a weapon to defend myself with. The Mills’ don’t consort with people of that ilk.

What's yer game?

I’m a blackjack man, myself. *prefers his game, but will bet on just about anything, particularly if a pretty girl is dealing*

Anythin' else we should know?

Not at this time, but if I think of anything of importance, I’ll be sure to let you know immediately. *says this in a tone that tells you that it is never going to happen*