He has an abrasive personality, like skinning your knees on pavement and he's always known that he comes across as a sonofabitch A lifetime of being called petty, dishonest, arrogant and callous will do that. Gunner's all bruised knuckles and ripped jeans: but, he'll save your ass if you want him to.įollowing the rules, flowing with the crowd and standing on the sidelines has never held any appeal. When one of his friends is in a tight spot, or being threatened by anyone, they know that they can rely on him to come charging into a fight: recklessly, thoughtlessly, destructively.
Even if he's the first one to react, like caustic chemicals meeting molten lava, he'll also be the first to protect him friends when they need it. He'll never be the one to tuck his tail between his legs and submit to someone he believes is wrong or stupid.
Insults and confrontations come naturally. If he does lie, it's probably because he wants to get a cheap laugh or he's testing someone to see if someone catches him. He isn't one to resort to white lies and half truths just to tiptoe around someone's feelings because he believes the truth is necessary for growth. It's the kind of thundering honesty that leaves you feeling exhausted and burning with humiliation. Besides raging bouts of cupboard punching-he's got tight reigns on just how much he's going to show. Gunner hides his feelings behind offensive and rude jokes, because men aren't supposed to share much. Short tempered as a bull with red in it's eyes. For whatever reason, Gunner dresses like a grease from the 60's, but he's alright with that too. Give him boots made for kicking and jeans that won't tear up to nothing if he bails on his bike. Give him something that'll last a long time. He could wear the best Gucci shoes or whatever the fuck that means, but Gunner has always preferred practical clothing to flashy shit. Leather jackets, ripped jeans, white shirts. Some are random junk-tattoos, but he loves them all the same. A paw-print on his wrist and giraffe on a bicycle. On the side of his ribs, he's got a hand in shackles. Seems like it's the gangster thing to do, but he has few friends who aren't covered from head to toe. Either that or he's been punched in the face one too many times, and bears the bruises every day. They're settled into sunken eye sockets, seemingly accursed with sleepless circles. Murky brown, dirty rain puddles, tree-bark peepers. If there's one thing that's readily noticed, it's Gunner's haunted brown eyes. Slather on a thick helping of beetling cheekbones, pronounced angles and heavy eyebrows. It's unlikely that he's easily pushed around. His meaty fists, and scarred knuckles, speak volumes. It leads you to wonder what kind of trouble he could be to deal with, or how far he was willing to take things. He has an impressive collection of scars speckling his body like spiraling constellations and white-splintered trophies. Because of this, Gunner tends to keep everything on the shorter side of things. He's got a windswept scruff of shaggy brown hair with an unfortunate, prominent fringe that stubbornly denies any, and all, efforts at taming its wild ways. The man's harsh dimples create little crooks beside his nose whenever he smiles, turning up a little at the edges-and if you glance quick enough, they look a little like puckered scars little knife-point slivers.
But what's really amazing is that he's is much quicker on his feet then his foes give him credit for. This bulk allows him to fight more defensively, taking on more damage then most can handle. He maintains a muscle-bound stature and inherited mean square-shoulders. Physically, Gunner is at the peak of his strength. If it wasn't for the odd assortment of scars skittering across the left side of his jaw, neck, shoulder, upper and lower arms, then you could probably say he was just another odd sonnuvagun sitting on his porch, minding his own business with a shotgun in his lap. There's nothing stark or forbidding or readily noticed. There's a hardness in his eyes that's hard to miss: from seeing too much too quickly, without having the proper time to grieve. A scrummy looking-fella with a scruffy beard grown over a prominent, punchable jawline.