McGlynn

Bring Me

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  flightless bird, american mouth i'm not your hero all i need

  the night we met hold me tight or don't white knuckles

  ghosts that we knew thoughts of flight sit next to me

  
  
  

  Name: Rhys Heather McGlynn Nickname(s): Reeses Pieces, Glide Gender: Male Birthday: December 7th Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius Age: 35 Species: Human Place of Birth: In the back of a taxi between Orlando and Tampa, Florida Current Residence: Loft above a laundromat in Little Italy, Bramford, New York Education: ROTC, Army, Airborne Division, Police Academy* Employment: (Past) Auto Parts Store in HS/College, Disneyworld Cast Member, Pilot Occupation: Police Officer Language(s): Sticks to English but a bit of a hyperpolyglot; can pick up other languages easily Orientation: Heterosexual - Midlife Crisis Questioning Dating Status: Single Marital Status: Once Divorced Height: 6'2" Weight: 200's Hair: Sun bleached brunette, more blonde. Style: Kept above shoulders and out of face. Eyes: Sky Blue. Piercings: -- Past: Right nipple, brow, ears 3x both -- None at the moment. Tattoos: -- Inner left bicep: daughter's initials* under a Dr Seuss-caricature of her -- Right hip: geometric arrow Scars: -- Crisscrossed back from shoulder to thighs, serious burns graphed -- Slash across nose bridge under length of eye to peak of cheekbone* -- Spattering of small burns and cuts on hands and face -- Small incision marks on right ankle for bolts to joints Born as an accident from a spring break fling of a European stranger and a Florida native bartender, he grew up with a single mom and grandparents that always had Opinions on how she should raise him. Lots of arguments, lots of contradictions, his leash was either too short or too slack. Teenage years had Mickey Mouse paying for his dalliances or greasy hands pinned between broken machinery of rides, reminding him what pain tasted like. Eventually, while fooling around with Disney Princesses, picking fights with drunken tourists, and pushing the limits of fast cars, Rhys often found himself into the sort of trouble that kicked him into boot camp. It fit, it worked, it adjusted the reins of his violence and anger into something more comfortable. Military saved his grades, saved his mother’s life weeks after he came back from training. Burglar didn’t know he was home, and that was his first true taste of another’s life being wholly in his hands. Was it a bad thing, to crave it again? It should have been, but fights in bars turned into hands too tight around throats of one night stands and the thrill of a too fast pulse under this thumb was the most heady drug he’d ever come across. A woman that wanted this was a shock, but she fought him tooth and nail with laughter between them and kisses that felt like she was taking bites of his soul. Little did he know she really was. The trade off was a daughter, a sunbeam he’s only seen a baker’s dozen of times in the past nine years. Feeling a bit gutted after being foolish enough to believe he was capable to be a father, he threw the uniform back on and fully traded away his sense of self. Rhys discovered a talent in flight, simulators that led him up to the skies. He created a mockery of self-control in recklessness, and found brothers in foreign lands - paratroopers that smacked kisses to his temples when he landed them back wherever home was this tour. There’s hints of him being involved in task forces but...honourable discharge is his form of a non-disclosure. That doesn’t mean he’s had closure. Not exactly haunted, Rhys has seen things he’s not sure he wants to believe as truth. Characteristics -- Keeps to himself. It's not that he hates people, he's just terrible at small talk. Be straight forward with him if you need something from him, otherwise he's likely to be distrustful. -- Likes to be outside, so isn't a fan of rooms without windows. Shies away from any trip he can't make on a pedal bike or walk. For now. -- Has a killer sense of humor if you can manage to earn the chance to find out. A bit too crude for the average american, there's sometimes a shine to his eyes and a flex to fists that hints at having danced with death a bit too long. Distinguishing Features -- Bright blue eyes. -- Scars, if they're not covered. -- The fit of his uniforms. Temperament -- A very slow, low fire; only certain things will actually spark him, otherwise he's just a bit uncomfortable to stay too close to. -- Gentle around those who show fear or innocence, doesn't like to be a threat. Likes: -- Being in the air, classic and antique planes, spiced rum, pesto sauce, Indian food, keeping busy, kids, cartoons and comics. Dislikes: -- Carnivals and Halloween; masks, clowns, costumes; vanilla, both the flavor and otherwise; barbecue, instant coffee. Fears: -- Aforementioned costumes and like, smell of burnt flesh, gas fires, sci-fi horror movies. Addictions: -- Peanut M&Ms. No, really. Yellow bag forever in his pockets or person, he's weak for 'em. Replacing a smoking habit he picked up on tours, isn't always 100%. -- Designer coffees. He has no problem spending nearly ten dollars for a drink if it tastes like a caramel cloud or the like and has enough caffeine to kill a bull.