Character(s) Cat's House

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Character(s) Cat's House

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Sawyer Miller
The Courier

Dossier
Name: Sawyer
Age: 28
Race: Caucasian
Sex/Gender: Cis Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Hair: Dark brown, chin length, scruffy
Eyes: Brown
Height: 5'6"
Build: Stocky, strong with a touch of softness




General Appearance
Sawyer is a man with dark brown hair that reaches the nape of his neck. He has a deep farmer's tan and a sparse beard he keeps trimmed short. He's soft around the middle, but sturdily built from his time laboring. His brows are thick and his eyes are dark with a gentleness to them at rest. On first impression, Sawyer's mannerisms come off as someone who postures at toughness rather than actually seeking a fight. He only stands straight and rigid when feeling accosted, otherwise lettings his shoulders slope and his body relax in a way that makes him seem a little smaller than he really is. He wears a dark cattleman style hat and new boots, a little spiffier than expected for a trail rider. He's a frequent smoker and carries a silver colored cigarette case.

Personality
+ Hard-working | + Adaptable | + Compassionate | = Conflict-averse | = Wary | = Introvert | - Short-tempered | - Proud | - Averse to seeking help

Used to time either alone on the trail or traveling with groups he doesn't intend to stick around, Sawyer has developed an indifference to social situations. He is amicable whenever possible and he can be moved by the needs of others to be a little generous, but he rarely yearns for the company of others. He finds it to be a dangerous idea, to become dependent on another person. After all, it's so easy to lose people in the life he leads. He would rather get along with others and then say goodbye when they've both gotten what they need out of a situation. It does sometimes leave him physically lonely, but that too can be remedied with a short term arrangement.

Given that he isn't the most intimidating man, nor an especially talented shot, Sawyer doesn't have much on the surface to dissuade others from starting trouble with him. He has a chip on his shoulder about being underestimated by others and it's one of the few things that can draw him out to argue with a stranger. Usually his temper is reserved for himself, easily frustrated and made impatient by inconvenience or mistakes. He doesn't tend to aim those reactions at other people yet it can still give someone the impression that he's a surly person if that is their first impression of him. He prefers that people see him as a dependable acquaintance, someone who will uphold his end of a deal and be honest if for some reason it falls through. It irks him when he believes someone has built a false image of him in their mind.
Likes: Trinkets from other countries, seeing animals, lemondrops, elk tamales, pretty saloon gals
+ Sawyer is content to top or bottom, but he is generally not dominant regardless of his partner.
+ He isn't sexually forward and can be flustered when someone makes a blunt advance on him without working up to it.
+ Sawyer typically exists in historical settings where he is self conscious and secretive about his interest in men. In modern settings, he isn't nearly as skittish about his sexuality, but he is still not very forward.


History
Sawyer grew up on ranch in the still developing wild west, one of several siblings. His family was large and much of their time went into their business. It was a secluded upbringing, with the only people outside of his family that he saw for some time being the cowboys who came and went with the animals to be sold. Trips to the city were rare treats, and with so many siblings they couldn't afford to take in many of the pleasures it had to offer.

When he grew older, he made it clear he didn't plan to stick around for good. He wanted to see more of the world than just their ranch. He wanted to experience new things and, secretly, he wanted to have space to himself so he didn't feel so out of place among them. He felt that frequently he just saw things differently from his family and he was the odd one out.

One day, he simply packed up and left, off to seek his fortune in the world. He's been traveling since then, never staying in one place for too long. If a good job comes by, he sticks around to see it out. But once it's over, he's gone again. Currently he's on the road more than ever, working as a courier for a private delivery company that has cropped up to meet some of the demand from all of the new business being done out west. He finds it rewarding to spend time out in the desert, even with all of its dangers. It gives him a sense of freedom, beholden to no one except for the simple expectation of which destination he is to visit next.

Writing Sample
"You've got to be shittin' me," Sawyer muttered under his breath. He pushed through the saloon's double doors to step outside, the wooden walkway creaking under his boots. The air was free from the heavy haze of smoke that had settled inside the building. The sun had only just kissed the horizon and so its orange light was enough to see by. And what he saw was his horse, standing around with its reigns still secured to the wooden tie-post, sans its saddlebags. The short man raked his nails through his hair, pushing his hat back where only its stampede string kept it from falling into the dirt. He wanted to stomp and yell but to cause a scene would just draw the attention of the people inside. The last thing he wanted was a bunch of drunks and saloon gals having a laugh at his expense when they saw him pitching a fit over being robbed.

Again.

He glared at the horse, as if the animal knew anything about why he was going red in the face. "I suppose you just stood there and let 'em unhook it off ya, huh? You lousy overgrown ass." He took inventory of what he was left with. He carried his money on him, thank God. His pistol remained at his hip, though he realized now he was down the bullets that had been in the bags. Something he'd have to pick up at the general store before he left. His cigarette case was still with him. Dramatic as the reaction might be, he was sure that would have been the last straw for him as far as maintaining his composure. With that on his mind, he extracts one of his cigarettes to light it.

This is a setback, to be sure. But it isn't the end of the world. He traveled light enough and he knew better than to leave anything truly valuable out of his sight when he didn't have any way to secure it. In this instance, the leather saddlebags themselves were the biggest loss. Even the denim pants were replaceable.

Hope they fit like high waters on whichever one of these bastards took 'em, he thought bitterly to himself. He took a slow drag of his smoke and contemplated what he could do to deter future opportunistic pickpockets.





Blackjack
The Dog

Dossier
Name: Blackjack
Age: 25
Race: Beast-Hybrid, humanoid with canine features such as ears and tail.
Sex/Gender: Cis Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Hair: Black in a short, spiky cut
Eyes: Pale grey
Height: 5'10"
Build: Lean and fit




General Appearance
Blackjack is a wiry but athletic looking man with a peachy complexion, dark hair, and pale silvery eyes. He has pointed black dog ears atop his head and a slim, long-haired black and brown tail to match, giving the appearance of a German Shepherd. He wears a thick leather collar with a registration license in the form of a gold colored tag. His canine teeth are sharp as is typical for his species and his hair is trimmed in a short, spiky cut. Typically he dresses in a black tank top, athletic pants, and a pair of sneakers. He has good posture but when he is intimidated he will attempt to make himself seem smaller, not wanting to challenge whoever it is that has upset him. He has a habit of staring which is very noticeable with his unusual eyes, but avoids direct eye contact.

Personality
+ Loyal | + Eager to please | + Affectionate | = Hierarchy Minded | = Impulsive | = Trusting | - Lazy | - Jealous | - Territorial
Blackjack is a beast-hybrid and so he depends more on instinct than serious planning. He can be impulsive and shows his emotions easily. He's not a very prideful person, preferring to choose someone to depend on and look to as a leader. When it comes to strangers, he is surprisingly timid even if he doesn't look it. He needs to meet someone a few times before he can decide how he feels about them. Despite his wariness of people in general, he is easily fooled. He's not good at lying and will often take what people say at face value, even if it's something the average person would consider suspicious.

While skittish of people, he can still be very aggressive. If the person he has chosen shows dislike for someone, he becomes more hostile to them. He doesn't like to let other beast-hybrids in his space as well. If he's feeling frustrated or pushed down by his leader, he'll lash out at other hybrids or those he sees as below his position. The hierarchy is highly dependent on the setting and how he understands it from the view of his leader. He also isn't very aware of human etiquette and his time spent on the street has given him some crude mannerisms and bluntness that can be awkward for more polite people.
Likes: Savory foods, sharing beds, winning fights, sports on tv, humans with tattoos, stylish sneakers

+ Blackjack is gullible but he's not childlike or entirely unaware of how people see him. He finds condescension about his intelligence insulting.
+ People who seek to purchase Blackjack will be warned by whoever they are buying from that he was once a fighting dog and has some insecurities about other hybrids. If they come by him through other means, they may not know this about him.
+ Blackjack considers sex to be a form of dominance if his leader takes an interest in him.
+ Blackjack is highly sensitive to scents and will take a liking to objects that smell like people he likes, even if it's not appropriate for him to take those items.


History
Blackjack is much like other hybrids in that he has lived a difficult life. From home to stray to underground, he has found no place or person lasts forever for him. Most of his troubles in life have stemmed from growing as big as he has. Nobody is particularly intimidated by a cute catgirl. Big a full sized man with fangs and a strong build; now that's a public safety hazard. He has lived on the streets, having to avoid people as best he could to keep from having the law called on him. He's been illegally sold and made to fight with other hybrids. He was secluded in a reformatory once the authorities picked him up. It was the one place he was relived he didn't stay long.

Despite the risk a creature like Blackjack poses, most of the people who spend time at length with him come to understand that he is simple in his needs. He wants a warm place to sleep, food every day, and for someone to want him around. Hardly the vicious convict that the reformatory staff had expected. With the caveat that he was recommended only to be homed with someone who was a child-free adult, he was passed on yet again to be offered among others to new prospective owners. Where some of his kind resent their lot in life, Blackjack took to heart the idea that humans were above him. They could be cruel, as he had seen, but they were also supposed to take care of his kind. So he avoids challenging the status-quo and hopes to find a human who will want him and keep him close as their companion.

Writing Sample
The hybrid wasn't used to such high end living situations. The apartment was outfitted with smart systems he hadn't encountered before, so some things he had decided he simply needed to ignore until his Master was around to be asked about it. The intercom making noise? That wasn't a doorbell so it didn't concern him. The fancy treadmill with the screen? It turned on and the speed adjusted, so any other bells and whistles drew no curiosity from him. He could pass the time while his owner was at work without whatever that screen did.

He knew the basic amenities and those were what he needed. His new Master hadn't had the foresight to lay down the law about the items in the kitchen, so Blackjack had helped himself. He was sprawled across the sofa, sneakers propped up on the coffee table while he snacked on pepper jerky. That alone felt like the lap of luxury to him. While his eyes remained on the oversized television, watching the game he had come across, one of his tall pointed ears flicked to one side. A noise somewhere outside. Involuntarily, it swiveled to listen until he could ignore it no longer.

He dropped the bag onto the couch and went to the window, opening it to peer out. The noise had been a familiar one and he found he had been correct. It was his owner's car pulling in off the street, on its way to the parking garage.

"He's back already," he mused aloud, his elbows on the window sill as he watched the car disappear into the building. His tail slowly started to wag, happy at the thought of his owner coming home. The apartment was nice, but it was lonely. A sterile home without company for him to enjoy during the day. He needed the warmth of another person to truly feel at ease. He didn't know his master well yet but he already knew the most important thing. He had gone out of his way to get him. That meant he wanted him there. He had taken him home, and Blackjack was determined to call it home. So, eagerly, he made his way to do the door and waited. As the door opened, the man wasn't given a chance to so much as greet him before Blackjack was crowding him, trying to drape his arms over his owner's shoulders and practically hang off of him as he came inside.

"Welcome home, Master. You're in for the day, right? This isn't just an early lunch break? I was thinking we could go for a run together. Or uh. Maybe walk somewhere instead. You seem tired." He pressed his face into the crook of his Master's neck, his tail swishing behind him as he didn't give the human an inch of space to avoid him. "Or did you have a bad day? You seem kind of tense."

 
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