Name
Richard Lee Ambrose
Pokemon
Sentret
Appearance
At six feet and one inch in height Richard Ambrose already greatly laments his drop in height from six feet and three inches. One of times many cruel tricks, and not the only one he has fallen prey to. The wrinkles across his body don't bother him so much, finding the ones spider-webbing out from his knuckles strangely fascinating, but the lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth always catch him off guard when he looks in the mirror. His once auburn hair has turned almost entirely grey now, but he enjoys the small mercy of still retaining the majority of it, which he keeps brushed back neatly. His eyes, brown and thoughtful, can't help but take in the other changes. Grateful that he hasn't developed what he considers "geriatrics jowls" and still has largely the same (albeit older) face, his cheeks no longer have that youthful elasticity. His pale skin seems thinner somehow, more translucent, as if at some point his body gave up on replacing the layers it naturally sloughed off.
Reasonably attractive, especially considering his age, Richard would be a hit amongst ladies his own age (and perhaps even a little younger) if he only made the effort. Habitually clean shaven with prominent cheekbones (more prominent than he would like since he lost weight), a straight nose and warm smile he could strike the perfect image of the doting grandfather if not for his efforts to the contrary. His attempts to dress youthfully in jeans, t-shirts and baseball sneakers only highlight his age and draw pitiful looks from others, the clothes hanging too loose on him since his weight loss.
Richard Ambrose is sixty three years old. He carries himself with the physical grace and presence of someone considerably younger, but it can't last long. Time makes fools of us all.
Roleplay Sample
Richard Lee Ambrose sighed, short and heavy, dropping the book he had been reading onto his bedside table. It was a dry text about the mythical Pandora. It was a subject he had been fascinated with for decades, and probably knew just as much about it as any 'expert', but it was becoming a struggle to stay interested in his favourite topic. There was just no new information, nothing he didn't already know. When the occasional new book on Pandora was published it was a rehashing of the same old information, wild speculation with no basis in fact or a combination of the two. As a way to keep engaged with his old obsession he had considered writing his own book on Pandora for a while. He'd even managed to work out the opening chapters before he realised he was in exactly the same position as all the authors and scholars he had come to view with exhausted disdain… there was nothing left to say. The manuscript gathered dust in the attic along with other best-forgotten relics. The guitar he had never developed the dexterity to master, a broken tennis racket from his youth, the family tree he had found too depressing to complete.
Grunting he swung his legs out and dropped his feet to the floor, bracing his hands on his thighs as he raised himself to a standing position. He had always thought that when old men said their joints ached because it was going to rain was a load of trubbish, but know he knew better. He took a moment once he was on his feet to let the pain ebb away, wriggling his bare toes in the thick carpet of his bedroom. A few more years and he was going to need help getting around at this rate. A cane he could live with, there was an air of genteel sophistication about a cane provided you didn't hunch over it like a crone. If things ever reached the point where he needed a walker he thought he just might have to end it all - the shame! Once the sensation in his joints had subsided he made his way through to the en suite, wincing as his feet slapped onto the cold tiles. He had found it refreshing once upon a time, but not anymore. After relieving himself for what felt like the fiftieth time that day he washed his hands at the sink, looking at his face in the medicine cabinet mirror. When had he gotten so old? Where had it gone - the time? What had he done with it? It was as if his life were a set of keys, set aside for just a second so you could free your hands for something else, and then when you needed them… gone. Hadn't you just set them on the coffee table? Hadn't you just decided you'd be sensible for a few years and save up some money before doing what you really wanted? But now the keys were gone, and so were all his chances.
He shook his head at his own reflection, it did no good to be so morose. Drying his hands he left the bathroom and walked to the kitchen. He could already tell sleep was going to play hide-and-seek with him tonight, so he set a pot of coffee to brew in the hopes it would perk him up enough to get through that awful Pandora book. He left the coffee to get on with its own business and moved into the living room, rubbing a hand across his cheeks as he did so. He would have to shave in the morning. He threw himself onto the sofa, instantly regretting the hasty move, and picked up the remote control. May as well see what was on the news while he waited for his stimulant to brew. He clicked it on and leaned back with another sigh.
"Hello, world. My name is Arden Stone, Pokémon Professor. Now, I know that the world hasn't seen me for many years," came the voice from the television. Richard watched the whole report through, then flicked from channel to channel so he could watch it again and again. The coffee finished brewing and went cold.
***
Running his fingers through his hair, Richard Lee Ambrose grumbled something obscene to himself as he glared down at the mess spread across his dining table. He was trying to put into some semblance of order every piece of information he had been able to gather on Pandora throughout his life, and the result was a librarians nightmare. Loose print-outs, notebooks in his own handwriting and text books open at seemingly random pages were spread out across the table. A lifetimes fascination with the legend of Pandora and he realised for all that he liked to think himself incredibly informed he knew so little. Now that the previously mythical place had been confirmed as real it brought everything into question. The same was true for more 'qualified' experts, people who somehow managed to get paid to sit around all day and think about these things, but he still felt as though his store of knowledge which he had previously thought extensive just wasn't going to cut it. He had to, had to, present himself as an authority on Pandora. He had to be taken seriously or he would miss out on his lifelong dream. So what if he was getting on in years? He'd just had more lifetime to dream with.
Resolving to pull something together before his appointment he set back to work. It was going to be another late night… might need a pot of coffee.
***
He sat there, in the painfully uncomfortable chair, and waited. Just like he had been for two hours. Just like he would for another two, or however many it was going to take him to get in to see Mr. Jude Laughner. He had phoned his secretary, or his PA or his… whatever, weeks ago and made an appointment for today. He had arrived half an hour early, dressed in his best suit and looking the Combee's knees, and… waited. And waited…. And waited. He knew he hadn't been forgotten about because he had asked the young lady sitting at the desk outside Mr. Laughner's office door.
"Mr. Laughner is very busy at the moment Mr. Ambers, and he is aware that you're waiting. If we're taking up too much of your time you could reschedule? No one will think any less of you if you decide to go home." She had smiled. She was very pretty. Richard decided she had gotten his name wrong on purpose and took a strong dislike to her.
He had politely said he would wait just a little longer and sat back down. Was this some form of test, to see how serious he was about this? He'd had to state the reason for making the appointment on the phone of course, so there was no secret about why he was here. He had heard Laughner was funding people on trips to Pandora - supposedly to unearth a fantastic treasure trove. Richard intended to be one of the people Laughner selected, by hook or by krookodile.
After what seemed to be an age, the pretty receptionist (who Richard had now decided he hated) looked up from her work and with seemingly no cue from inside the office whatsoever said, "Mr. Laughner will see you now."
Nodding an acknowledgement to her Richard got to his feet, too full of nervous energy to feel an old mans complaints, and picked up the folder of notes he had brought with him. It contained extracts from his own discarded manuscript, important notes from the works of Arden Stone, popular theories and conclusions on Pandora and even snippets of folklore and nursery rhymes that Richard suspected had more meaning behind them than it first appeared. Stepping forward he pushed open the door and stepped into the office of Jude Laughner, ready to put his dreams on the line.
He couldn't have remembered the next forty seconds clearly even if you put him under hypnosis. They had exchanged greetings and pleasantries, Laughner had offered him a drink, he'd declined… when had he sat down? He could feel the sweat running down from his hairline and took a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing himself dry. He needed to pull himself together or he was really going to mess this up. Get those nerves under control, this was no time to screw the poochyena. Once he felt he had himself under control, he realised Laughner had just been watching him from across his massive oak desk, waiting. It was unsettling, but Richard supposed he had been the one to make contact. He may as well start things off.
"Well Mr. Laughner, you know why I'm here. I've heard you're supporting people in expeditions to Pandora and I'd like to put myself forward as a candidate. I'm something of an aficionado, you see,. On Pandora, that is." Laughner was just sitting there, watching him. Listening. There was no indication either way as to what Laughner felt so far, or even that he felt anything. Swallowing what seemed an unholy amount of saliva, Richard plouged on, opening the folder of notes so that Laughner could see some of the contents across the table.
"As you can see, I'm quite extensively educated on the matter, which I feel would… would be an asset. For you, as it were. As an investment. There may be things on Pandora your average treasure hunter overlooks, or misunderstands, sending them in the wrong direction completely. I, on the other hand, would not. Misunderstand, I mean. I could perhaps see clues… or…"
He trailed off as Laughner held up a hand to silence him, with that same impassive lack of expression on his face. This was not going well, and why should it? Why should Laughner take a risk on an old man whose only qualification was enthusiasm? He could see now how foolish it had been to come here, how badly he was embarrassing himself. He may as well get it over with and start using the walker; crackpot old man coming through…
"Mr. Ambrose," Laughner began. At least he got the name right. "You are not the only person with a… let's call it "Pandora's Brain-Box". Your knowledge is not exclusive, though I can't speak for your perspective, which means that I can find it elsewhere. You're not selling me anything unique here. Why should I invest in you?"
Well, this was the end of it. His knowledge base had been the entire crux of his pitch to Laughner, without that there was no good reason to send him over anybody else. He wasn't as young, he wouldn't be able to move as quickly, more susceptible to illness and injury… this was pointless. He may as well give up and go home now.
…Except… if it was pointless, if the conclusion was already known, why not say his piece anyway? Even if he was laughed out of the building he could feel some measure of satisfaction in having made an attempt, a real attempt, and not just sliding away on his belly like a Grimer. Steeling himself for the rejection, Richard Lee Ambrose put himself out on a limb he was sure would snap under him.
"I care, Mr. Laughner. I grew up with the stories of Pandora and fell in love with them since the very first telling. I cared enough to read those stories more times than we have time for me to count. I cared enough to move on from the stories and start investigating the reality, the possibility, however small, that Pandora was real. Now that we know it is I just can't… I can't leave it at that. I care too much for that, I have to go there and see it for myself. Experience it first hand and learn the things that no one else has. You shouldn't invest in me because of what I already know, although that will be beneficial. Invest in me because I care, invest in me because I actually want to make those discoveries for something other than a quick buck."
"You're not in it for the money?"
"No. I'm in it for the adventure, truth be told."
Laughner finally cracked the smallest of smiles and leaned forwards, resting his arms on that enormous oak desk. "Well then, now we can talk."
