Post by Simon Lennox on Jul 3, 2010 23:57:57 GMT -5
HELLO MY NAME IS SIMON LENNOX AND I AM SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD. I'M A HUMAN AND I'M A ARISTOCRAT AND I WAS BORN ON NOVEMBER 5TH IN FRANCE. MY NATIONALITY IS FRENCH/AMERICAN. PEOPLE SAY I LOOK LIKE JACKSON RATHBONE. THEY ALSO SAY THAT I AM CLEVER, STUBBORN, AND SECRETIVE. TO BE HONEST, I'M BEING PLAYED BY KRIS.
CODEWORD: -admin edit-
ROLE PLAY SAMPLE: (From another board)It had not been a particularly pleasant day. A customer, not one of his loyal patrons, had come into the shop and made several terrible mistakes. First, the gentlewoman, if she could be called that, had interrupted him during his work. That was never a thing to do if a person wished for Simon to be in a good mood. Still, he'd done his best to stay patient in the hopes that he might have a new patron. Secondly, she'd gone on for quite some time about how she was disgraced to be in a shop that did not display a designer name. Simon had rolled his eyes at that, wanting to ask her why she'd come in if she was going to complain. Then, she'd criticized his work. Three strikes. Simon had ushered her to the door and locked it behind her. It might have lost him some business, but he really wasn't in the mood to have a woman like that for a customer anyway.
Rather than reopening the shop after she'd huffed away with a "Well, I never!", he'd decided to close early. His patience was stressed too thin and he didn't have any other appointments that day anyway. That was one of the blessings of owning your own business: he could close the shop any time he liked. He set his own hours.
He'd made the usual rounds: picking up the fabric and stowing it in its proper place, tucking the ribbons away, picking up the pattern pieces for another time. He'd blown out the lights, locked the doors, and headed upstairs to his apartment. He'd taken only a moment to shrug on a jacket and grab a hat before heading out the fire escape door, locking it behind him.
A short time later, he stepped through the door of the Cockney Tavern. He threaded his way through the small crowd over to the bar and quickly grabbed a seat. He waited until he had the barkeep's attention before ordering a mug of beer. The keep quickly poured the requested drink and set it before him. He took a long drag, then a deep breath, and finally allowed himself to relax.
Simon sighed and finally noticed that he'd not only sat right next to another patron, but it was also a person, or rather a lady, that he recognized.
"Miss Alice!" he said, pleased. Alice Devereux was one of his favorite of the Moulin Rouge ladies. He was usually a bit tongue-tied around her, but now he was too tired to be shy and was simply glad to be around pleasant company at last.
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