Oh s'il te plaît, appelle-moi Simion, il a dit sourire alors qu'il s'est approché et a palmé la boisson qu'elle avait glissé sur lui. Alors qu'elle prenait une gorgée de sa propre boisson, il leva le verre frais sur ses lèvres et lui donna un renifle curieux pendant que la glace se collait, une boisson de fantaisie sans doute dans un endroit comme celui-ci.
Reconnaître l'odeur familière du rhum Simion a pris une perruque profonde du verre, pratiquement vide comme il s'est vite rendu compte à quel point il avait soif. Le goût était un peu divin dans son état actuel, le liquide sombre laissant un arrière-goût fin et doux ainsi qu'il serrait la dernière de la boisson autour de sa bouche avant d'avaler.
« Merci beaucoup, Mlle Jackson » dit-il avec un ronflement légèrement déplacé, ses yeux errant une fois de plus autour de son environnement alors que son esprit commençait également à errer. Il a pensé à la femme à côté de lui et à ce qu'elle a dû faire pour se retrouver en tant que shérif d'une ville frontalière comme celle-ci, et il s'est demandé combien d'hommes elle aurait pu tuer jusqu'ici.
En s'éloignant d'un sujet aussi négatif, il s'est tourné vers elle et a essayé de lui parler davantage, lui demandant d'abord comment elle trouvait la ville et ses responsabilités avant d'essayer de déplacer le sujet et de déterminer ses opinions générales et de se faire une idée du genre de femme qu'elle était. Dans son état, il était le plus bavard, presque avant dans son questionnement, bien que heureusement pour Simion il avait assez de charme et de personnalité faire que cela ne semblait pas trop étrange d'un moyen pour lui de se comporter. En vérité, il essayait d'apprendre à la connaître légèrement et peut-être en même temps d'avoir une idée du genre d'avocate qu'elle était.
NAME: Archibald "Archie" Hersker
AGE: 28 (Up Coming 29th Birthday)
GENDER: Male
OCCUPATION: Undertaker/Mortician
BIO: Born back east, Archie was raised in a family of critically acclaimed coffin makers and morticians, The Herskers. Known nationally and far abroad as the makers of quality caskets, coffins, shrouds and urns. From a young age Archie had grown hand in hand with death, he saw bodies come in and out of his father's workshop, going to the adjoined morgue to be embalmed, explaining why he always smelt like chemicals as a child. However once he became 13, he was brought into family business proper and went about proving himself as a master at shaping wood; more and more people came in asking for his workmanship and he gladly made their caskets. However people suddenly stopped coming to him after finding out he had no formal education in the field of carpentry. He took two years off to train as an apprentice in the Boston Guild of Carpenters, got a fellowship and graduated with honors, though upon coming home, he found his position taken. In a flurry of yells and finger pointing, he packed up his bags with his tools and his money and he stormed out of the Hersker estate, this was when he was 20.
He spent two more years of his life working freelance, slowly but surely - and unwittingly - going further and further west, until one day he found himself in Sand Flats, a descent enough town. But he noticed it was missing something, well two things, a hospital and and a mortician. He smiled to himself and bought a plot (plot 8) and has been happily working there for coming up 7 years now, making coffins and caskets for dead citizens and downed outlaws alike.
Though he has made himself comfortable in the dusty town, he is somewhat out of place, too well mannered, too clean looking; he attracts a lot of attention walking through town, "that city slicker..." he hears mumbled behind his back or, "that odd feller." he hates it, but he has to live with it.
PERSONALITY: For being in the line of work he is in, he's a rather chipper individual, not the constantly depressed downer one would expect to be a mortician. If met in the middle of the street he often gives a smile or tips a hit, giving polite greetings and 'how do ya do's. Apart from that he's a charismatic individual, his big city way of talking and flawless smile making woman swoon, he enjoys doing so but never found the opportune moment to get hitched to a lady. He also loves being sarcastic, he doesn't even need to talk to be so, usually playfully obnoxious in his mannerisms, one can't help smiling when he does something backhanded. Though he is approachable most of the time, when provoked enough his mood shifts violently.
TALENTS:
- Carpentry, it's part of the job.
- Sewing, someone's gotta make the interiors.
- Sizing People Up, whether they be dead or alive.
- Persuasion, his devilish charm doesn't just work on the ladies.
- Melee Weapons, years of using hammer.
- Keeps calm, except when he's not calm.
- AMAZING COOK.
FLAWS:
- Inept with long-arms, slightly better with handguns.
- Violent mood-swings.
- Can sometimes be cocky and accept stupid bets.
- Fairly selfish.
- Sensitive eyes, sudden flashes don't go well with him.