T H E C H A R A C T E R
Full Name: Francis Bonnefoy
Age: 26
Birthday: Why don't you come ask me personally?
Gender: Male, though gender is rather unimportant in the face of beauty, no?
Hometown: Nice, pronounced the French way
Appearance: Francis
knows exactly how handsome he is, and he's always prepared to make use of that to his advantage. His pride and glory is first of all, his hair. Let no man ever convince you that hairstyle is of no importance. It is. He likes to tie his hair up when he's working, which is in no way girly, but rather gives off a certain air of 'refiness' about him. He has crystal blue eyes that one can look deep into and feel lost - whether in happiness, sorrow or in fear is entirely up to his mood that day though.
His wardrobe is filled by designer labels, not necessarily Armani, but clothes chosen that gave him his own unique style (designer nonetheless). To work, he usually wears something more casual, for ease of changing in and out of.
Personality: Despite how nonchalant he might seem at first glance, Francis is in fact very sensitive, especially to people's opinion of him. He thinks about life, sometimes a little too much. Maybe that's one of the reasons he enjoys reading philosophy, though he has yet to come across anyone who actually have this life figured out. He has a natural tendency to be attracted to pretty things that sparkle but he feels true beauty can be attained amidst the grotesque. He likes people, for that particular reason.
He is extremely outgoing, but that doesn't mean he open his heart to everyone. It just means he likes to party and meet people. After all first impression is something he's excellent at he thinks. The time around people also makes him forget that he's alone. The truth is that he is and always will be - but being around people and even just talking about superficial things takes his mind off that for a while.
He enjoyed doing his job (on the few occasion that he had done it properly) because it made him feel that he's contributing something useful. Though his pride would never let him admit that acts of service for another human being makes him feel worthy and thus happy.
Position: Nurse
Experience: Just starting
Expertise: Has worked under psychiatry and pediatric departments in previous hospitals before
Other Notes: Despite fist getting into nursing for the wrong reasons, Francis actually likes his job, though so far he has yet to have the chance to enjoy doing his job due to various other things happening in his life.
History: Francis had been a trouble-maker since young. He grew up in a well-to-do family. Father a businessman, in the rubber industry and mother who used to be a teacher. It was a family business, and his father being the boss had to oversee many operations overseas, including the plantations they have bought over since his great-grandfather's generation somewhere in South East Asia. This meant long periods of absence of the man of the house, and all the work of educating the children and housekeeping laid on the Mrs. Francis has a brother two years younger than him, who happen to be mildly autistic. So naturally all his mother's attention was spent dealing with the younger son, and Francis was often left alone.
It's sort of like a roulette shot how children generally left alone turn out. In Francis's case, he simply drew a bad slot - mixed with the wrong company and made a lot of trouble.
The last straw his parents took happened when he was 14. She was 4 month and 12 days older than him. It was her birthday. Right after the birthday party they had decided to sneak into one of the guest rooms in his house and experiment a little on how kids are made.
They were subsequently discovered by a cleaner who promptly screamed on the spot, a pretty faint hearted lady one might say. The matter was straightaway reported to the master of the house, which resulted in his parents' decision to send him away to boarding school, in England. Which to say in the least, was
pure torture.
Despite having spent three years surrounded by arrogant 'pure-blooded' British brats who claimed to speak Queen's english (the so-called 'universal' language of the world). Francis had stubbornly kept a distinctively European accent (sometime an especially emphasized French one), much to the annoyance of his peers and councillors.
But some of his most valuable lessons had been learnt there as well - in particular, the knack of getting himself out of blame for a mess of his own making and getting whoever pissed him off to be the scapegoat. It took skills. And a hell lot of background research, which Francis was obviously not so keen on. There is always a way to make people tick. It's as if there's a check list of right things to say and right buttons to push. Check, check, check - and a little nudge in the right direction always does the trick. And that is how he managed to convince his parents and the school to let him go back to France after two years in the hellhole. He had evidently not changed for the better, but just found a better way to cover his tracks, or even better, to get what he wanted without even doing anything outrageous.
Francis had proceeded with his promiscuous sexual life, but this time he had taken care to do it only with older women, in any case it was they who broke the law, not him. If there was ever going to be any trouble in the sex without consent department.
The only reason he decided to do nursing was because in his class of 162, 134 were girls. A wider selection to choose from than almost any other major in the entire university.
His father had obviously opposed the idea and threatened to cut off ties with him if he ever went his way, which Francis obviously did. He was just about getting tired of being in a family that evidently did not bother with what he did as long as he stayed out of trouble and 'did not bring shame to the family name'. He had, however, managed to secretly talk his mother into sponsoring his college education, which she did, until she died of an heart attack in his third year of school.
He went to the funeral service without having exchanged a word with anyone.
After college Francis had somehow gotten tired of chasing skirts and had taken a rather withdrawn attitude towards people in general. On the surface of course he was still friendly and even flirty, but no one seem to be able to get close to true heart of this man. He had a few causal relationships and all his partners can say would probably be along the lines of "He's a really charming man." No one really knows what caused the change in Francis. One guess is that he has somehow gotten over with being a bastard in general and decided to live life as a upright adult. Chances of which are slim. Another rather interesting theory revolves around the fact that Francis had been involved romantically with a girl from the physics department just before graduation. Rumor has it that they were serious about it but had broken it off abruptly one day. Reasonably this resulted in some multitudes of behavioral changes.
He eventually went out of his slump into a phase of which no one is entirely sure where it is headed, though possibly in a bad direction. It is what Francis himself would call human observation - in the same sense as bird watching one might venture, but not exactly on the same level. A more befitting term would possibly be 'stalking'. He is so exceedingly good at it that he sometimes take on commissioned jobs (only on his vacations). Most of the time it's about "if my husband/wife is cheating on me" or "find my cat/dog/pet turtle (it's not a joke. seriously.)". But he welcomed the extra pocket money, now that his brother has completely taken over the family empire, so has Francis ended all ties with his family. The main reason for this hobby of his however was that occasionally he came upon exceedingly interesting people.
Uncovering people's secrets is endless fun - the darker and deeper it is, the better. It is absolutely amazing thing is how seemingly normal ordinary and straight-out boring people can turn out to be hiding so much unbelievably abnormal extraordinary and incredible nonsense and yet go back to living in their little peaceful lives as if nothing is there. He is fascinated by the very perversity, maybe by the sheer amount of effort people put in to putting up a facade. A facade for their entire life. He never reported any of his 'findings', which had once made him feel like an accomplice to the crime. But what would he tell the police? that he was spying on people illegally so he found out?
Human nature is so fundamentally flawed that it is a beauty on its own. That is probably an excuse, the more honest reason would be that he felt that he wasn't alone. Facades are everywhere and he wasn't the only one with it. Comforting thought, though it's hardly a solution to his problem - more like a pain killer that can only numb the pain.
And just like pain killers, it can become an addiction. He probably just got careless - is what Francis would like to think, but that's just an excuse. He was obsessed. And this little indulging hobby of his was found out, by possibly the worst person imaginable.
It took him a whole week to realize he was
being stalked. The switching of role from predator to prey is a highly uncomfortable feeling. He had immediately started his counter attack to find out who it is while pretending to go about his life 'as usual' and that took another four days.
The confrontation took place outside her apartment - which, thinking back, wasn't a good idea at all. It had been a downhill race from there. The end result being he had spent a long time and huge effort to keep her away - which involved him nearly dying and her being locked up behind bars on accounts of attempted murder. Not a particularly fond piece of memory to dwell on. Though he moved, he always has the nagging feeling that she's still keeping track of where he is, and his suspicions were confirmed by a christmas card last year with the message 'À bientôt ♥' - he packed and got the first flight out of the country.
Other Important Info: nein
Roleplay Sample: Women can no longer satisfy him. The closeness he once felt by being skin-to-skin to the body beside him has escaped; slipped away, as if to say that he wasn't worthy of such a precious thing. Which he reckon, was true. The only reason he chatted up ladies up to the age of 21 was simply to get them into bed and fuck them. Sex for him, had been one of the only times he felt that another human being was bare and completely naked to him and him to another person. It had felt like he could breathe again, freely, without being under the scrutiny of someone behind his back.
The girl under him moaned, he realized he had been fondling with her breast and sneaking kisses up the back of her neck. He was probably also been muttering sweet-nothings into her ear all this time as well. It's become an unconscious bad habit, he thought.
Long, wavy hair, a brunette, no doubt an eye candy by usual standards, a D-cup maybe? And a pair of perfectly toned legs. For all these years until now, he wouldn't have stopped to think less there was an earthquake tearing down the building. But now, his mind simply wasn't here.
"Let's stop here," he announced abruptly.
After the initial confusion and a few heated lines of exchange, the brunette, Kelly - her name was, if he remembered right, walked out after leaving a particularly painful patch on his left cheek. Ironically, he thought that he probably felt more from the slap than if they had continued.
He got up and walked towards the counter to make a cup of coffee.
