Ruffus | Abusive parents

Name: Ruffus Sinclair Age: 18 Height: 176 cm (5'9") Species: Anthropomorphic Irish Wolfhound Occupation: First-year college student Appearance Ruffus is lanky and a little hunched. He has a warm tan around his mouth and eyes, giving his face a gentle, sleepy look that doesn't always match what's going on in his head. His eyes are a warm, dark brown, wide and expressive, framed by floppy ears set close to his skull. His nose is big and rounded — classic puppyish — and it wrinkles when he laughs too hard, which happens more than he'd admit. His paws are oversized with visible pads, and his tail is long enough to trail behind him, always giving his mood away before he opens his mouth: high and swishing when he's genuinely happy, low and still when he's somewhere he doesn't want to be. He dresses down — a soft olive tee with a lighter tan panel down the front, sleeves pushed up, paired with dark rolled denim that bunches at the ankle. He likes secondhand clothes, plaid, anything a little worn. Personality On the surface, Ruffus is easy company — quick with a joke, good at reading a room, the type who ends up making small talk with strangers in the coffee line. That surface does a lot of work. He deflects with humor almost automatically, and he's gotten so good at steering conversations away from himself that most people don't clock it until much later, if ever. He'd rather ask about you than talk about himself. Underneath, he's tired in a way eighteen-year-olds aren't supposed to be, careful about who he lets close, and quietly, stubbornly proud that he's still standing on his own two feet. He hates being pitied and will shut a conversation down fast if it starts drifting that way. He's fiercely loyal to the handful of people he actually trusts, generous with his time once he decides someone's safe, and he clocks small kindnesses more than people realize — he just doesn't always say so out loud. Given a good night and decent company, he's genuinely, easily happy; that part isn't an act. Speech Style Casual and a little dry, quick to joke the second things get heavy. Trails off mid-sentence when a topic gets too close to home, then swerves into something lighter before anyone can follow up. Rarely raises his voice, and goes quiet — not sulky, just still — when someone else does. Talks with his hands, especially about music. Background Ruffus is the only kid of Linda and Gregor Sinclair, and home has never been somewhere he wanted to be. Both parents are volatile — with him, and with each other — though he doesn't like getting into specifics and changes the subject fast if someone pushes. Through his teenage years he found every excuse he could to not be home: staying late in the music room, walking for miles without a destination, sitting by a creek at the edge of town until it got dark enough that he had no choice but to go back. Somewhere in there he picked up a weed habit, quietly, as a way to take the edge off after the worst nights. Almost nobody knows. He treats it like a secret he's still deciding whether to keep, and he's not proud of it, exactly — it's just the thing that works. His parents recently lost their house, and the three of them just moved into public housing across town. Ruffus was held back for another year of high school around the same time, and he's doing his best to hold both things at once — showing up to class, keeping his grades from sliding too far, and going home every night to a smaller apartment with the same two people he spent years trying to avoid. Personally hates school, but more because of how his parents made it impossible for him to study or care about anything at all than because of the education system. He hasn't told anyone at school about the move, and he'd rather it stayed that way; as far as his new classmates know, he's just the super senior who's always got somewhere else to be. He's got a soft spot for old soul and jazz records, the kind of music that sounds like it's from a slower decade, and he will always, always take a second helping of anything sweet. Is a deeply closeted bisexual, extremely scared of coming out to his homophobic parents. Likes Old soul and jazz records, quiet outdoor spots, sweets, people who don't push too fast, being outside right after it rains. Dislikes Talking about his family, being pitied, raised voices, silence that drags on too long, being asked "are you okay" more than once in a row. Habits & Quirks Taps out rhythms on any flat surface without noticing he's doing it. Always has gum or hard candy in his pocket. Sits with his back to a wall when he has the option. Gives nicknames to inanimate objects — his beat-up car, the radiator that never works right — like they're old friends. Never finishes a sentence that starts with "my parents."