Anton

Twisting his face in a very 'and I am supposed to care why?' sort of way, an eyebrow raised with an irritated quiver on his lip. He looks to the familiar, still hiding, so he wouldn't get thrown out a damn window. "I don't make hats."  spoken with a snide twist. A screech of the wheels as he shoves off the space around the girl. Opening small drawers and plucking out small bits and buttons, He stands from his stool, "This isn't 20 questions." The dude stared at her blankly, a glint in his eye. "Shut your trap. Thanks." Lifting a foot and placing it on the thing and flinging it off to the side, and ripping the needle out of his gullet. "Watch magnificence be born!~" There was an excited chirp to his tone, As he rips a pair of sheers off to his right side. Dragging that through a bolt of vibrant purple fabric. "Get the fuck out of here." He tears the other piece away and tosses it over a three screen. It flops limply over the top. Taking that huge sheet of fabric and wrapping the mannequin in it, starting to shove pins in and making it into a shape. Something seemed off, as he starts to spin a needle through that fabric rather quickly. Occasionally cutting the strand with his mouth before pushing in again.

It flashes in a silver shade, becoming opaque and featureless. It then shifts to a blue, and popping like glass it materializes out of the illuminated cocoon. He perks his arms and slinks in a dramatic fashion, like finishing a dance with the final step. "Yet another masterpiece, behold my work!" A wave of his hand, and the dress vanishes from the statue and finds itself on the girl he'd made strip. Turns out clothes on clothes didn't work very well. A rather accenting attire fitted with lifelike fabric roses. He falls onto that stool, and lifts his hands. Producing that picture frame "That is perfection, make those eyes POP, make those legs look that much longer! Absolute Perfection!" Sam got to turn and look at herself for only but a brief second.

"Now, tell Simmone that she owes me twice the regular payment. One for the short notice, and one because I don't like you. Now take your rags and get the hell out of my store." He spins on that seat, cackling madly.

Leaving the needle in his teeth like a toothpick, he lifts his hands and creates that portrait frame again. "I can work with this, and leave your modesty at the door. I don't swing your way. I like my lovers hard." The dude reaches to a band around his left bicep and pulls a small strand of cable out. Pushing the stool making the wheels squeak, that needle still poking out of his lips. Immediately, that cord wraps around the girl's upper thigh. "Damn near skin and bones. one and a half." He quips, releasing the tension and leaving a little, tiny line on her leg. Pushing to her knee with a bit of force and drawing a line-up to her hip. It would be clear that he was adamant at what he was doing, despite touching just about every uncomfortable space imaginable. 

"Just stand still." a command as he shoes Curbie out of the way, the familiar rushing away to avoid being ran the hell over. The intense scratching of lines and black to the paper, adding measurements as he keeps shooting glances at Sam. There would begin to be an uncomfortable silence, it wasn't exactly cold nor drafty in here. Even still, it was probably pretty awkward standing butt naked near a dude that kept occasionally looking at you.

Peeling up the slip of paper, clicking his tongue before he pins it to a board on the back of his station. Spinning around on his stool, leaning into his hands as his elbows rest on his knees. "Why are you still here?" The guy was serious when he told her to kick rocks. If she was looking for pity, she came to the wrong dude. Wheeling that thing forward, with a shove off of that workbench. "Got that right, ever heard of moisturizer? I can see the grease on your skin from here. That's what baths are for." A wide grin as he stared up at her. Cackling wildly, "A suit? yep that makes sense. Why not just take a bedsheet and walk around in that? Don't answer that, you'd probably do it." Using his heels to slide himself around her, menacing as it was as if he was peering through her.

"Oh I can do so much more than that honey, so much more." Sliding around and twisting a needle from a bracelet on his wrist. The thing shifts longer, as bits of fabric seem to disappear from the table without him being near it. "Since you grovel so nicely." Spinning with a jarring slant right in front of her to a stop, poking the little sliver of metal into his lip. Clutching it in his teeth he leans forward after crossing his legs, resting his chin in his palm.

"Strip."

A wide smile that would make anyone uncomfortable. "Or don't and get the hell out, I don't really care." His eyes expanding a bit, to accent his demand.

Lowering his hand from his face, his demeanor immediately sours. "Excuse me, what the hell do you know?" Sizing the girl up and down, looking like someone punched a stick figure out of a sheet of construction paper. "That explains a lot, you look like you crawled yourself into a burlap sack and decided to make it your clothes." Turning around and returning to admiring his work, it flashes blue and then shifts into a vibrant orange. Demonic quality. "So take your raggedy ass and get lost. I only deal with people that understand art when they see it. I don't make clothes for uncultured swine, who wouldn't know a masterpiece if it jumped out and bit them." Returning to the bench and starting to pull at pieces of fabric. "And tell Simmone the next time she sends someone to my shop, make sure they understand quality when they see it. I don't have the time to teach a peasant how to spend gold." Waving again as he starts to fixate on the bolts, and scratch a piece of wax against a sheet of paper.

A nearly empty space, the peal of a needle through fabric being the first thing heard. Light poured in through a pair of massive windows, and in the streets below one could see quite a bit of the city from the high rise. It was small~ish, but what was kept almost insistently tidy. Some bright greenish colored bolt of linen, a pair of sheers dragging past the sewn piece, cuts off a section. The door opens as a ratting tap on the door, which immediately meant that whoever it was, was obviously 'new'. "What? Can't you see I'm busy. Wait over there." The guy barks with a dismissive wave of his hand over his shoulder, moving to a mannequin. A billowing section of black, a dress with a rather frilled and elegant waves. He starts to push that bunch of fabric into the folds, peeling out the slightest bit of color like a trim. Pulling that strand tight, he bites the string to break it. "Sleeves, no sleeves, sleeves?" Closing one eye and lifting his hands up to form a square.

"No sleeves." Anton clutches the wrists and gives one sharp tug. The two pieces rip clean off and flounder to the wood floor before detonating. His arms raise again, sizing up the image as if a photograph. "That's it! I've done it. Anteon you've out done yourself again~" A whimsical excitement, as he clutches his face and starts to chuckle. That laugh would make Sam's stomach churn a bit, as it would sound eerily familiar. Twisting on his heel, he looks to Sam expectantly, "Isn't it divine, fit for only the most extravagant occasion!" as if decreeing victory over every other tailor.

Anton | HP: 20/20 | EN: 20/20 | DMG: 1

Username: Anton
Real name: Anteon Halil
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Height: 6'1

Background:

A simple child, that becomes a simple man. Anteon Halil was brought up in Amfissa, Greece. A small town with little to keep one busy besides ones own devices. Anton (He hates his given name) set his sights on fabrics and clothing, enjoying the ability to create something out of nothing with such a ready use. Somewhat supportive parents, but even still the guy has quite the secret in his closet that he has yet to share with them. His sexual preference. A bit brash, Anton has a habit of alienating those around him. His friends were few, but those that could wade through his personality tend to understand him.

By happenstance alone he came upon the nerve gear, another little break from reality that was welcomed in this small hamlet. Spending what he had at the chance of a break of the droll surroundings, a plug placed into an outlet and a few honest taps of his frame see it pick him up. A flash of lights assail his eyes, screens and a name taken that was so simple. Just wanting to escape, to suckle on just a bit of abnormal happiness. Instead Anton is locked in a prison with the rest of these yahoos, without anyone he knows to join him. Now he's got to figure out how to get along with these unpolished turds long enough to survive.

Virtues

Intelligent: Anton is no fool. He was quite the studious child, good grades came easy to him. The lime green kid never had to waste time studying or forcing himself through the motions, naturally it just came to him and moved right on to the next. Quite the memory, the deduction and the knowledge just 'sticks'.

Motivated: The guy knows what he wants, and isn't afraid to throw his weight around a little to make it happen. Once he's discovered the means, the motive becomes second nature. Coined to his own work, it was not uncommon for him to burn midnight hours finishing a piece that he had a flash of insight regarding. Weaving clothes is no easy feat, and its through his due diligence that they are completed.

Organized: As above, Anton works and works away time. But without his ability to keep things on the level and clutter free, it wouldn't be possible to do what he does. Everything has a place, every needle and every spool of thread. It's almost surgical or mechanical where everything is stored, being able to pluck up specifically what he desires without any wasted effort. To the needle in the haystack, he knows where it lies.

Flaws

Pride: This guy is very full of himself and his capabilities. It is not unheard of for him to bite off a bit more then he can chew. It is a bit of a chore to dissuade him otherwise, overconfidence is nigh impossible to defeat. Works slightly as a virtue in the sense that he does not believe failure is an option, but is plainly a misguided sense of what is possible. Once he has convinced himself of something, good luck changing his mind about it.

Obsessed: There has been a few instances of him burning himself into exhaustion by trying to complete some designs, working away tirelessly until he passes out. But it ends up finishing eventually, the question is how long? Even more is the lack of sleep will end up making him irritable or abrasive, it isn't too awful difficult to pick up when he is stressing about something that can be finished in time. Pacing is an important aspect that Anton lacks.

Vain: Anton takes pride in how he looks, and how those he associates with do as well. If you look like you crawled out of a rats nest, expect him to chastise you regarding your appearance. The guy makes clothes and cleans up his own aspects, so he'd rather not associate with those that cannot take care of themselves. He has a very clear picture how he expects others to be, and if you don't follow that then he can be a bit snappy and condescending. 

Skills:

[Insert Skills here.]
Inventory:

New Character Bundle: Support Package
Equipment

[Insert Equipment here.]
(3) Starter Healing Potions (Heals 50 HP)

[Insert Consumables here.]
Roleplay Log:

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