First off, can you tell us your real name?:

*a young man stands uncomfortably as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. He seems not so much shy as confused and anxious* Maloney Riordan. My name is Maloney Fitzpatrick Riordan.

Do you have a nickname? If so, how'd you get it?:

*pauses to hold a match to the cigarette perched precariously on his lips* Shanty, I guess. That’s a bit of a long story, I’m afraid. I got that while I was working near Manchester last year in a coal mine. Some of the lads didn’t…*exhales, smoke curling around his dark, angular features* take to Irish too well.

Do you know your age? Birthday?:

*laughs a little, though without a trace of humor* I’m not a bloody savage. I’m eighteen, and I was born on the 19th of December in Gibraltar, Spain.

Can you describe your looks?:

*he tugs at his dark hair* My Spanish side, I guess. Quite the odd match, I suppose. *indicates with a quick gesture of the cigarette his tanned skin and pale blue eyes. All and all, he is a rather handsome young man, with strong, broad shoulders and forearms stacked with knotty muscles. His skin is deep bronze of a Spaniard, with closely cropped dark hair that frames a strong jaw, Roman nose, and blue eyes that sharply contrast his skin*

What's your personality like?:

*laughs again, not a pleasant sound* Just ask those British bastards in Manchester. *realizing he should probably qualify his previous statement, he continues* I won’t start any trouble with anyone, long as no one messes with my things.

Got any friends?:

Not in the States, I don’t. Not yet, anyway.

What about a significant other?:

*his eyes open wide, a sudden and angry flowering of blue* Let’s…not talk about that right now, if you’d be so kind. *hand moves quickly to his back pocket*

Any family?:

*brings the cigarette back up to his lips and nods slowly* My father was an Irish-born British soldier stationed in Gibraltar, on the Spanish peninsula. Gibraltar had a few whorehouses geared towards British soldiers then…my mother worked in one. Eleven months later, my father was on his way back to the Isles, with me.

What was your past like?:

*laughs* Horrible. I used to live in England, but my dad has strange ideas about love and marriage, so I decided to give up all that fancy nobility stuff and come here. *shakes his head disapprovingly* Am I an idiot or what?

Anything else you want to say about yourself?:

*pauses briefly, seeming to consider it* No.