Jason regardait à blanc la fille plus courte, ou, plus précisément, le couteau actuellement pressé contre sa gorge. En lui donnant un regard dédaigneux, 'Gtfo de mon visage', il repoussa maladroitement le couteau par la lame, tournant les yeux noirs foncés vers l'adolescent japonais plus court qui a mentionné l'Amérique deux fois, de manière insultante. Oh génial... c'était un de ces Japonais. Mais... laisser sa machette? Comme l'enfer qu'il allait donner aux étrangers... c'était aigu et utile, donc il n'allait pas risquer qu'il soit volé. "Ouais, attendez." Jason a froncé, se retournant et agenouillant à côté de la porte. Trouver un buisson, il glisse soigneusement la machette à l'intérieur des soies, jusqu'à ce qu'elle soit complètement cachée, avant de se tenir debout et d'étirer ses bras sur le côté.
Il regarda vers le bas comme le chiot la tête pointé sa jambe, un sourcil levé légèrement dans l'amusement, avant que son visage revient à son expression normale - lèvres neutrement froncées, et sourcils naturellement rétrécis. Il est entré dans la maison - il s'était conformé, n'est-ce pas? - et jeté un coup d'œil. Il n'avait pas encore été dans une maison japonaise, et alors qu'il regardait autour de lui, Jason a laissé un petit sourire insoupçonnable se former sur son visage. C'est comme ça qu'il s'attendait à ce qu'il le regarde, d'un manga ou quelque chose comme ça. C'était drôle comme le monde était petit. En se retournant, il a donné un autre regard à l'adolescent japonais. Cheveux noirs, yeux légèrement rétrécis, assez courts - il devrait vraiment s'habituer aux hauteurs japonaises, puis il tourna les yeux vers la crachat qui décida de pointer un couteau sur lui pour demander de la nourriture. Mon Dieu, Louise...
"Nom est Jason." Il a finalement dit, s'écroulant sur un siège d'amour et s'étirant le cou. "Fuckin' zombies..." C'était un gémissement murmuré, puisqu'il y avait des enfants dans la chambre - des enfants adolescents, mais néanmoins des enfants.
Name: Jason Stowe
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Class: None.
Personality: Meet Jason...an asshole. Not really...but sorta. Eh, not really. Laidback and jaded, he's a pretty chill guy, seemingly not affected by this entire apocalypse. He carries himself with a natural confidence that befits someone of his stature in the world...eh, actually, his stature in the world's pretty shit all things considered, but he doesn't care. He's young, all things considered, and holds a lot of anger in his heart - probably from his past. Spite is a sin, and he sins quite often; Jason would leave you alone, in front of the zombies, a raw steak in your hands, if you piss him off enough, or if you're a bigger dick than he is. Quick, sharp wit - honestly, you won't win in an insult or word battle with him - he is rather neutral and 'Idgaf' with society, since he sort of left that whole life alone a while ago. This leads to him being quite apathetic and ruthless, but if something sticks, it sticks. He has a dark humor, although, despite the vulgarity of some of his jokes, it's also undeniably funny...in a morbid, 'I really shouldn't be laughing' way. Jason will not let anyone walk on him, and he's very rebellious to any designated 'authority' figures, which is why THE MAN banned him from a lot of smaller towns across the world. Something about graffiti and property damage. Hah.
Background: You'd like to know, wouldn't you? Oh...you would? Ah...it will be revealed in due time, Padawan.
Skills: Growing up in a very dangerous, ghetto neighborhood, Jason is a scrapper, through and through. Although he had never learned a rigid, noble fighting art, he was pretty damn good at just simply beating ass, rather than going through Katas or forms. His instincts are some of the best, and this, combined with his tolerance to pain, makes him an extremely dangerous fighter close-up, although he finds that using his fists against zombies are stupid, and usually just swings something hard at them to make 'em shut up.
Going past, this, he was in auto-shop back in school, and is an expert when it comes to rewiring things, fixing vehicles, and other grease-monkey stuff. This also goes hand-in-hand with his ability to drive stick, and other vehicles. Had to use a few guns in his line of 'work', so he's pretty good with those. A crack-shot, if you will. So, to put it in three words. His skills: Close Combat, Vehicle Repair/Driving, and Firearm usage.
He's not that bad at prolonged strategizing; throw him in a herd of zombies and he'll figure out a way to work it to his advantage, but plant him inside of a house, throw a map, and get some zombie figurines? He won't know what to do with it. Was never one for chess, after all. Similarly, he tend to piss people off; more specifically, rigid, authorative figures such as police officers and most of the people in Japan. His brusqueness when dealing with both living people and zombies can also turn a few people off, and not in a sexual way.
Weapons: He went through quite a few weapons, just grabbing whatever sturdy thing he could find as he traveled through this god-forsaken city. Right now, after holing up in a hardware store, to get some 'Gorilla Duct-Tape' for future needs, he found a machete and hammer. Well, a lot, but for the sake of lightness, he 'stole' one of each and got the Hell outta there.
Relationships/Friendships:
Melissa Twist - His childhood friend. They parted ways a few months ago, when he dropped her off at Canada for her sister's wedding. He has a feeling she's dead.
Ayyy bruh, they ate Shoske.