Post by drake raphael elliot on Apr 9, 2012 21:07:04 GMT -5
DRAKE RAPHAEL ELLIOT
i should be the one behind the wheel
| B A S I C S |
Name Drake Raphael Elliot
Nicknames Drake. Don't even think about calling him anything else. He will not respond.
PB Hugh Dancy!
Age 27
Sex Male
Occupation Forensics accountant
Hometown Baltimore.| P E R S O N A L I T Y |
Even at a young age, Drake was more logical than the people around him. As a child, he liked puzzles and matching games more than coloring or stacking blocks and when he played outside with other children, he liked games with set rules and set winners. He has always preferred things like sports to games of chance and excels at strategy games like hearts and chess. He sees things in numbers and lines, events and consequences, and prides himself on being exceedingly rational. He has always been able to think through solutions to problems so as to pick the best one and, much to his delight, he’s usually right. Since he’s so used to being right, he does have the tendency to assume that he knows what’s best for everyone. He has been known to tell people what to do or judge people for mistakes he’s sure that he would never have made.
Drake thinks very highly of himself and always has. He got stellar grades from the time they started giving them out to the time he got his Masters and has never really had trouble doing anything that he tried. Of course, this could be largely due to Drake’s unwillingness to try anything that he isn’t absolutely positive he would be good at. He has never tried to play an instrument, bake a soufflé, write a novel, or anything else he considers “frivolous” and usually sticks to things that he understands, like math and money. As such, he finds himself to be an expert in all of the things in which he chooses to endeavour. He prides himself on knowing the answers to any question that anyone should happen to ask and, if he doesn't know the answer, obviously the question was stupid. He likes to collect random pieces of information for this reason, so that he might be able to answer the more frivolous of life's questions, like "what is the only letter that does not appear on the periodic table" or "what is the world's largest amphibian?"
Despite Drake's tendencies to be a pretentious douche, he isn't bad at making friends. He likes going out for beers when he has free time and, while he is a fairly abusive companion, he has many friends that count on him. When he's making friends, he doesn't usually interact with people like him. Since he likes being the best, he finds other perfectionists irritating and thinks of them like competition, though he would never admit this out loud. Part of being the best is making it seem effortless and people exerting no effort are not competing with other people. As he is not good at sharing his spotlight, he is not good at sharing other things and never has been. He is unlikely to lend a pen to people for fear that they won't bring it back, nor has he ever shared answers, group work tasks, or labor when he could do it himself. He doesn't trust people not to mess things up, and this is true of him in regards to material possessions as well as emotions, although he is not so outright about emotions.
In fact, he is so not-outright about his emotions that plenty of people have even wondered if he has any. Aside from his standard expressions of boredom, annoyance, or impatience, most people have not seen any traces of feeling on our around Drake. He does crack the occasional joke in public--and moreso to his friends--but he rarely laughs at jokes himself and, if something is publicly amusing, he will usually only acknowledge it with a fraction of a smirk. It's not that Drake has no sense of humor--he laughs at movies and TV shows if they tickle him--it's more that Drake has gotten used to being stoic. He didn't cry much as a child, since his sister merited too much attention for him to bother, and he didn't cry at all growing up. He doesn't waste time physically reacting to things and instead uses that time to think of his next course of action, be it his verbal response or physical response.
Strengths: logic Drake has always been more logical than emotional and prides himself on being able to see more than one solution to any given problem. He thinks about consequences to actions whenever he needs to make a decision and rarely does things spontaneously.
organization You will not find anything of Drake's that is not organized by something. His wardrobe is organized by both color and style, his desk is organized by subject, and all of his files are color-coded by last name and grade. He has complicated systems that most people can't figure out, but that suits him just fine as he does not like people reorganizing for him.
level-headed He is good at adapting to situations without freaking out. As with logic, he thinks about consequences to actions whenever he needs to make a decision and rarely does things spontaneously.
Weaknesses: apathy Even to his family members, Drake can be alarmingly unsympathetic.
perfectionism Everything must be perfect where Drake is concerned. He plucks his eyebrows, irons all of his clothes, and cleans obsessively.
impatience Since he thinks he is good at everything, he gets very impatient when people take too long to do something.
Talents & Skills: Strategy games, tennis, cleaning.
Weaknesses: Nothing. He is bad at nothing. >
Creative writing, trying new things, being sensitive.
Likes: Math, alphabetizing, organization, suits, people who care about their appearance, spy novels, James Bond.
Dislikes: Animals that shed, disorganization, rude people, germs, people who major in useless things [like art or english], interns, spontaneity, chatty people, children, irresponsibility, lateness, fast food, tequila.
| H I S T O R Y |
Drake was the second child born to Melanie and Roy Elliot and, much to their delight, was a much less demanding child than his older sister. As such, when he was old enough, he was often left to his own devices while his parents focused their attention on Jac, who was two years older. This seemed to suit him fine; he had always been good at entertaining himself with puzzles or blocks or the television. He was bad at sharing at a young age, since he and his sister rarely had the desire to play with the same toys and, anything they both liked, there was usually two of and, once his youngest sister was born, three. This made him marginally unpopular in preschool, where his parents sent him to socialize. Though, as adaptable as he was, he soon learned that sharing was caring and became more inclined to do so.
However, he was never exactly pleased to be doing so. He always found that other children had the tendency to break things, like crayons or jars or toy trucks. When he painted, even with his unrefined motor skills, the paint stayed on the canvas. He was rarely messy unless there was someone else involved and shied away from dirty activities, like mudpies and playing with his food. He found much more solace in reading books with his father or watching Pooh with his mother. Most of his playdates consisted of watching movies or playing with toys inside instead of the rowdier, boy-type playdates that other children might have had.
It was surprising to everyone when Drake, forced into P.E. as a kindergartner, excelled at sports. He had never been athletic, but it was soon clear that he was good at following rules and understanding games and this gave him an advantage throughout grade school in the realm of sports. Of course, he always excelled academically, but now he was fitting in with the other children. He still wasn't good at making friends, but he had more people he spoke with and spent time with and people liked him even when he didn't like them. He still didn't like getting dirty, but found that he enjoyed sports that didn't involve as much physical contact and wiping out, but still gave him a workout.
Thus, in middle school, he took up swimming. He found that the other boys on the team were like him--self-sufficient, motivated, and focused on being the best. He enjoyed this environment far more than he thought, especially since the competition gave him something to do. He wouldn't say that he was great friends with the boys on the team or even that he enjoyed spending time with them, but it was good to know, in a world where he had always felt like the most evolved among everyone, that there were people like him. Plenty of the boys--and girls--had grades as stellar as his were. At a time when everyone is trying to find their place in the social circles, Drake found his.
In highschool, Drake kept up with swimming and took up tennis as well. He was fairly popular, though he did not revel in it as some people might have. He had his share of dates and parties, but never anything serious. He did, however, make better friends in highschool as he found that the less intelligent, but nicer jocks flocked to him. This tendency for people to orient themselves around his calm, all-knowing demeanor is what landed him the captain position on the swim team in his junior year. People weren't joining the team and most of its current members, as well as its graduates, believed that Drake was the best to organize its growth. It turned out that they were right and, under Drake's leadership, ideas, and careful record-keeping, the swim team grew. Soon, there were even other positions available and Drake unshouldered some of the duties. Sort of. He still maintained that he needed to check everything that anyone else ever did, including the note-taking secretary. If this got on anyone's nerves, they didn't say, because the team was just doing that well.
Until suddenly, it wasn't. It happened when a few of them were practicing late for a meet the next day. They were as responsible as ever--an adult was there and they had permission to be at the pool. But even the most responsible of people are victims of gravity and none of them could help when one of the juniors that Drake had been swimming with since he was a freshman slipped and fell, hitting his head on the side of the pool before he plunged into the deep end. Had they noticed right away, he might have been better, but it wasn't until a few minutes later that Drake noticed he was missing and dove in after him. When he pulled him up, things didn't look good and the ambulance, when they got there to pump the water from his system, felt the same way.
He was still alive, though, and that was what mattered. It was what mattered for the next few weeks when he was in a coma and the team came to visit him twice a week. They were trying their hardest to keep together, but each time they went to the hospital, Drake knew that his team was getting more scared. He himself was having difficulties swimming, since every time he got in the water, he envisioned himself at the bottom, effectively drowning to death. Eventually, he resigned from the captain's position and then, the team. He knew it was falling apart and he wanted to help, but he couldn't bring himself to get back in the water. This was just in time for his teammate to "wake" from his coma, or at least show signs of normal life. The doctors announced that they expected him to make a full recovery, eventually.
This was all well and good, but Drake never rejoined the swim team. He was still uncomfortable with the water and he did not like doing things that he wasn't certain he would excel at. Instead, he turned to tennis. Schools that had been looking at him for swimming scholarships turned their attention to his new sport and, as he entered his senior year and added dual enrollment to his AP classes, it seemed as though he would get a full ride to any number of colleges for the maximum three years he would spend as an undergrad. Everyone was surprised, however, when he went to the University of Pennsylvania on a math scholarship for his perfect SAT scores. Drake, who had never really intended to pursue sports in college, was a bit miffed at people's shock, but got over it. He graduated third in his class and only third because the top two took extra classes online.
As he had every time he changed schools, Drake found that he found his place best at college, even more than the other times. He had a roommate that was constantly out partying, so he had a lot of time to himself to settle in and get acquainted with the rest of the hall. The rest of the hall, it turned out, liked to party and soon the hall was practically its own fraternity. They all got together and drank and partied and even the RAs got into it. The fact that his freshman year was one of the best of his life almost convinced Drake to continue on with his full four years as an undergrad, but when, as a sophomore, he ended up in a lame dorm, he decided to continue on with his two year plan for a double major in statistics and accounting.
After graduation, for which he decided not to walk, he moved on to the University of Virginia for his masters in accounting. He took up a TA position for a renowned statistics professor who also ended up directing his thesis. That thesis, plus a recommendation letter from said professor, got him into Duke University for his Ph.D education. When he finished, he got a job at an accounting firm in Brunswick, Georgia. The problem with that was that he was not exactly Georgia's biggest fan, being from the North and unused to Southern sensibilities. He couldn't deal with waitresses calling him honey and sweetheart everywhere he went and he didn't really like Southern drawls, so he started looking for a new job.
His sister had found a college randomly on a random island in Florida and he hadn't intended to ever go there, but the longer he stayed in Brunswick, the more he wished he would wake up dead and so he cast his eye around. He found an accounting firm there that was hiring grunts and, in one of his most spontaneous actions ever, moved there, despite the pay cut. He figured he could get promoted soon enough. However, instead of that happening, he found himself drawn to the police station. What he really wanted, once he researched, was a position as a forensic accountant--it would be the highlight of Drake's life to be able to sit and look for people's math mistakes all day. He got himself hired as a regular accountant first, but quickly managed to move up in the ranks, where he now works.
| A P P E A R A N C E |
Drake likes to keep his appearance clean. He shaves every other day and is very rarely scruffier than a five o’clock shadow. Since his hair is curly and he likes a bit of bounce [though he would never admit it], he keeps it at a very uniform length just to his ears. If he starts to feel that he looks even the least bit unprofessional, he will trim it short enough that he feels precise and orderly. He has even been known to pluck his imaginary unibrow if he feels that his forehead hair is getting out of hand. His hair is a dark sandy brown, just a few shades lighter than his eyes, and he has considered dying it darker to make him look less boyish, but has yet to have the heart to do so.
People would be hard-pressed to find Drake in much other than a suit. Even on the weekends, he wears dress shirts and only in the most private moments in his own apartment does he dress down to a t-shirt. Occasionally, he will wear jeans in public, but since he is usually only in public during or after work without time to change, he usually wears nicer pants. He wears ties when he goes to work and they are usually black. He prefers to dress in black, with his shirts varying from blue to white to grey. He does have a trench coat that he wears in the winter and it is, unlike the majority of the rest of his wardrobe, khaki. His blazers, however, are all black.
When Drake moves, he moves with purpose. He never ambles or idles, he strides and takes long steps. He has perfect posture, something he won’t admit to practicing as an undergrad. He doesn’t waste movement by waffling between things and he doesn’t waste gestures or expressions. He doesn’t talk with his hands and he rarely smiles--only if he feels that something really necessitates it. Unfortunately, he does have a propensity toward frowning, largely because he often finds more to frown about than to smile at.
| E X T R A S |
his bffl is will and they don't drink tequila because after they did it once, they got married and are now divorced.
| S K I L L S |
Drake would never say that he was hiding. As a Man, he confronted his fears head on without any manner of subterfuge or sneakery. Even if his sister posted his name and phone number on the bulletin board for the entire school to see, something that could cause him pain, suffering, and heavy embarrassment. Even if, due to such events, a woman had approached him in a bar and assumed the status of his soul mate, despite his vigorous efforts to dissuade her. Even if said woman had, afterwards, called him sixteen times in one hour, knocked on his window for forty-five minutes, and slid no less than twenty-seven pictures of herself in various states of undress under his door.
He certainly was not hiding due to any of the above events. He was a Man. He would never hide. Another thing he would never do, however, was step into an arcade. They were like festering germ pits, with joysticks that every pubescent teenage boy touched with hands that had been god knew where and race car seats that had probably seen their fair share of bodily issues. Drake liked video games as much as the next nearly-thirty accountant did, but he did not like them in such a public, germ-infested place.
Which was why the arcade was the perfect place to
It was lucky that, when he walked in, there was a giant cluster of people crowded around something. No one even noticed him slip through the double doors and behind a Pac-Man machine. Perhaps he could even make it to the snack bar without issue and grab himself a coffee. He started toward the display of nachos that he would never touch, inching along like a child trying to change places in hide-and-seek. A second later, however, he had darted behind a Street Fighter machine. She was there. His stalker was totally there, in that crowd. What was she doing there? Had she already--
No. It wasn't her. Drake let out a sigh of relief and stepped out from behind the game as the person he had mistaken turned around and turned out to be hideous. Not that he was hiding or anything. He could totally take a stalker.
At this break in the crowd, however, he got a glimpse at what they were all watching. More importantly, he got a glimpse of who they were watching. That was all it took for every competitive bone in Drake's body to flare with something that seemed a lot like >>>
!!!!. Moving forward swiftly, he adjusted his collar enough to look debonair and broke through the crowd, taking his place at the opposite end of the table. "Logan," he said, nodding in greeting. "Drinks for the night to the winner."
| P L A Y E R |
Name Bee
Age 21
Gender female
How you found us I made youuu.
Who else do you play? Avery Dawson, Teddy Lutz, Juliette Bloom, Caden Hawks[/blockquote][/justify][/size]
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