Lee Carter

Appearance
Short and wavy brown hair, strong jaw with a hint of stubble, well built. 6'2", blue eyes and a soft smile that seems to always be at rest, rather slouching posture but not too bad.

Personality
Overall very collected and patient, Lee has got his shit together. He doesn't laugh a lot, and when he does it's always a brief chuckle. He doesn't like to shove his problems on other people, and doesn't mind keeping to himself if need be. He's very willing to help others, though sometimes he gets taken advantage of and wonders if this is his fault. He's the first to blame himself if something goes wrong. However, he isn't always so composed. When he gets angry it can be terrifying, and given a choice he would rather take a risk than rest on a certainty. He's also somewhat of a perfectionist, and in terms of his actual beliefs he has few that he sticks to unthinkably, constantly second-guessing himself.

Quirks and Random Facts

 * Plays Judo semi-frequently, but isn't great at it. A bit too tall, so the smaller guys generally get him.
 * Can't raise an eyebrow, so he just lowers one instead.
 * Ambidextrous, but only writes with his right hand.
 * Occasionally shows off a geek-like knowledge on completely random subjects, such as fraction rates in a ballerina's toes.

Backstory
Lee grew up being moved from foster home to foster home, constantly being juggled around for a place to settle down permanently. Honestly, it wasn't as bad as it could've been, something for which he's very grateful. He was finally formally adopted four years ago, though he gets the overwhelming sense that his new parents largely did it out of pity. His father is a lawyer specializing in labor law, and his mother is a teacher at a local school district. In the interests of giving him better access to education than he'd had previously, they decided a long time ago to sent him to a private boarding school, Greylake High. In terms of the two, Lee was always much closer to his mother, who tried to get him involved in the community as much as possible, and his father and he always had these awkward silences that would stretch on for ages. He never could stand being in the house, and spent most of his time at jobs or essentially anywhere else.

Persona
Bragi, the Norse God of Poetry. A white haired old man with a vicarious viking's figure with a scroll of parchment clasped firmly in one hand, wrinkling the pages, and a wooden harp slung over his back.