Lorne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nomorekaraoke) wrote2009-01-20 11:12 pm
nomorekaraoke) wrote2009-01-20 11:12 pm
Entry tags:
OOC: App for Cape and Cowl
[PLAYER]
NAME/NICK: Sofie/Sofo.
JOURNAL: sochan.livejournal.com, but I rarely use it. Still, LJ Message works just splendidly if you need to contact me.
IM: AIM: sakuraofrureo
E-MAIL: sofie.pettersson@gmail.com
[CHARACTER INFO]
CHARACTER NAME: Given name is Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan, but he's never been proud of that name and title, and hasn't used it since coming to Los Angeles. Lorne prefers to be called just 'Lorne', but will use 'Lorne Green' as his name for signing stuff and starting accounts and such. Business-related stuff, you know.
FANDOM: Lorne is from the Buffyverse, more specifically from Angel: The Series.
CHRONOLOGY: Lorne enters Iron Man's domain shortly after the end of Not Fade Away, with all the angsty, character-shattering-and-building goodness that entails. He's had a year of Hellish proportions at Wolfram and Hart, and he's walked away from his last job as Angel's employee. This means he comes to Cape & Cowl, a murderer. More on that down below.
BACKGROUND: In essence, the Buffyverse world is like our real life world. It has all the shows we know and love, all the music and all the countries and cultures and wacky politics and past wars, all the junk in the trunk. But where we only have to worry about humans gone wrong, the residents of Buffy Land has to contend with vampires, demons galore and little kids playing with magic. It's a crazy, dark world, with a suitably dark sense of humour, and a highly developed penchant for irony. One of the main themes of A:tS is redemption. Is it at all attainable? Possibly, yes, but at what cost?
Vampires are believed not to be in possession of souls. This means vampires are rotten eggs, no exceptions (apart from Angel, of course, and later on, Spike). Demons, though, come in so many different varieties, it seems as though their to be evil or not to be evil is more a question of culture and upbringing than anything else. Do demons have souls? Lorne would say, if nothing else, he's got soul. More importantly, regardless of who you are, A:tS teaches us time and again that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, and that the world isn't painted in black and white, nor in shades of gray. It's all the colors of the rainbow, and then some. It's Hell on Earth, because Hell is on Earth. It doesn't matter how good you are, you'll inevitable be screwed over by the Powers that Be.
Lorne is hurled into the world of Los Angeles, circa 1996, after a lifetime of disappointments and heartache and believing himself to be insane. His birthplace, the very grueling demonic dimension of Pylea, is a world without music, without emotional expression, without the kind of joy that isn't readily associated with a town square slaughter. It isn't a good place to be, no matter if you're the only demon alive with music in his heart, or a human having peeked into the wrong, portal-opening book at the library.
Lorne finds his home in LA, which is something he never could in Pylea. He starts up a small business, a karaoke bar called Caritas, open to one and all. Over the years, he helps people find their paths by reading their auras.
He becomes friends with Angel & Co, and after a series of not entirely reassuring story hijinks involving a vampire pregnant with Angel's unborn son, and a vampire hunter from the 18th century come back to life to hunt Angel down, Lorne's bar is completely demolished. He moves into Angel's HQ, the Hyperion Hotel, and little by little grows to be an appreciated member of the team. But when things start to really go downhill - Wesley misinterpreting a prophecy to mean Angel's son will kill him, Angel's son being lost in a Hell dimension, coming back as a disturbed teen killing machine, Cordelia going into a comatose state after a demonic pregnancy, the team taking over the LA branch of Wolfram & Hart (a law firm which they have actively fought for four years prior), Cordy dying, Fred dying, and Angel taking it upon himself to crush the demonic big wigs of the sector...
When things go downhill, they really go downhill, and yet, Lorne perseveres. He stays loyal to his friends, even when Angel proposes to take down the Circle of the Black Thorn, an endeavor that will almost certainly kill them all. Even when Angel asks him to kill a man, he doesn't back out. What he does do, is let Angel know that it will be his last job, and that he'll leave LA afterwards, and Angel had better not come looking.
PERSONALITY: The last part of the background section really tells you what kind of person Lorne is without even touching on the subject of a karaoke-loving demon (he loves karaoke, and music, and pop culture). He's loyal to a fault. Win his trust and friendship, and he'll follow you into death. The thing I have loved about Lorne since the first time I got to see him in action is how he constantly challenges your preconceptions about what his kind of character's supposed to be like. He constantly contradicts his own stereotype, but not in any bad way. He's a demon, but he's a humanitarian. In fact, he loves humans. He is flamboyant and flirty, but he never gets involved with anyone. He loves music and musicals but can't stand Andrew Lloyd Webber's works. He is suave, worldly and eloquent, yet he constantly ends up the butt of the script writers' joke, either by blurting out a Freudian slip or by becoming the embarrassed object of scrutiny from his friends. His kith and kin keep humans as livestock and eat them on a regular basis much like humans do cattle and beef. Lorne hasn't had long pork since he left Pylea (and very probably longer than that). He's a pacifist born in a world where nothing speaks louder than the warrior's sword. The list goes on. He's kind, big- and warmhearted, and whether he knows you or not, he's always willing to lend a hand or an ear or a shoulder to lean on. He'll take almost any amount of abuse himself, but should you threaten his friends and/or patrons, you got another thing coming. He's generous. Cheeky. He's a total flirt and utter romantic, and he does. Not. Judge. People.
But when his friends start dying one after the other, Lorne starts changing. He works longer hours, he grows more quiet, doesn't smile or tease people as often as he used to. He grows more introvert, but stays loyal. It's his loyalty that's his final blow. After killing Lindsey in cold blood on that last, horrid night, Lorne changes for good. He doesn't trust himself anymore, and he certainly doesn't trust the Powers that Be anymore. He's killed a man, and that just puts everything in perspective. It doesn't matter that the man in question was a crazed, vindictive dabbler-in-black-arts who'd threatened Angel on a number of occasions. No one's perfect, and no one is good or evil through and through.
It's pretty much directly after this that Lorne finds himself facing the Iron Man. No more music. No more karaoke. He fears being found out more than anything, not just because he's green (I'd really love it if I could keep him looking the way he does in canon, oh, pretty please? Lorne isn't Lorne when he's Andy Hallet's face), but because of what he's done. He dreams of redemption. That is all.
CLASS: Hero in the closet. He's going to doubt his heroing capabilities for quite some time, but he just won't be able to stand by idly if someone needs his help. Although, all things considered, he'll keep a low profile and stick to neutrality as long as he possibly can. All that said, yes, he'll keep his dog tags. Just the fact someone believes he can be a hero means more than he'd be willing to admit even to himself.
SUPERHERO NAME: Jiminy Cricket. Or just Cricket. Either will do. "Always let your conscience be your guide," and all that jazz.
ALTER EGO: Lorne Green. He dreams of being the unseen, mysterious owner and proprietor of night club called Aequitas. Of course, he won't have this title and day (night) job at once. But it's a goal.
POWER: In canon, Lorne can read people's hearts, and therefore their intentions, their past and future to some extent; he can see where they're supposed to be right now, and how to get there. In A:tS, his power keeps expanding as the show goes on. At first, he can only read people's auras/hearts if he watches/listens to them sing. Later on, he doesn't even need the singing, he can just look them up and down if they're in an emotional enough state of mind. Given his ability to read the futures of people, he occasionally refers to himself as being prescient. However, he continuously fails to foresee the really big, bad things. On an unrelated note, his voice can actually shatter glass. Which brings to mind, I almost forgot the most freaky bits of his canonical powers. If Lorne gets his head chopped off, he doesn't die. His head retains all the quirky sass of his assembled self, and the only way he'll actually die of the condition is if his body is further mutilated. Side note: His horns grow back if chopped off or otherwise removed (owwies). Whedonverse and demons, honestly. Also, he has what us mortal humans would call a displaced heart.
It is located in his left buttock. The rest of his anatomy remains a mystery.
Plays the piano on occasion (I'd like to think he dabbles with the guitar too), used to love to sing and generally perform on stage. Not anymore so much, though. I see no need to amp up his powers from canon. I like them fine the way they are.
However, given Lorne's already existing mind powers, I'd very much like for him to be resistant to mind probing. If you're an empath, you learn to shut people out, or so I'd like to think. Also, given the canonical way he binge drinks, his blood alcohol level should be somewhere over the rainbow by now. The only toxin/poison Pyleans are directly susceptible to (in canon) is a secretion from a big, ugly beast found on their homeworld. So... shall we say mild to moderate resistance to Earth-based toxins?Let's not forget about the fact he drinks booze like some do water. That can't all be down to experience, or I'll really feel sorry for the green guy even if he is an alcoholic in every sense of the word.
COMMUNITY POST SAMPLE:
I know, it's the middle of the night, but I Just wanted to call, say I'm all right. Peachy keen with sprinkles on top, I swear... Helped a lady cross the street the other day, left before she could so much as squeeze my hand in her little wrinkly ones, and I can't help but wonder if I did the right thing leaving her all alone. For all I know, she was knifed down for pocket change the moment I left. You never know. Never assume everything's gonna be fine, darlings. No matter how many times you've witnessed miracles, never once start believing it'll be all right in the end. Never tell yourself it'll be okay.
I just called to say I'm fine. Just called to say I love you, whoever you are. Whoever's listening, you're a bright, shiny little starlet and you're perfect just the way you are. Somewhere, somebody loves you, sugar plum. Somewhere, someone's just waiting for you to find them. All you have to do is look closer, look before it's too late. Never doubt that you're loved. It's when you start doubting that you lose everything. It's when you let doubt get to you that you start making mistakes, and you can't afford mistakes in your line of work.
Love's not for sale. Human lives are. Remember that. You've seen it, yourself. Lives thrown away for the next big hit or the next high, the next tumble between dirty sheets and bended knees. You know what I'm talking about, and I know it sounds crazy. But if you knew half the things I've lived through, listening to me rant about the fatality of life and love in the middle of the night wouldn't seem so strange. It's about reaching out and connecting with someone, even if it's a stranger. It's about not getting close enough to sting or get stung. You can understand that.
...can't you?
I'm Jiminy Cricket, and I'll be your back up conscience for the night. You need me, just whistle.
THIRD PERSON:
Some nights, you just don't know why you bothered to get out of bed in the first place. For Lorne, it's been one long row of such days now, and he can't see why they should stop anytime soon. Every day it's the same thing. Nightmares, endless nightmares and not a sliver of a silvery lining in sight, nothing but the promise of a stiff drink in the little wee hours of the night to get him through the first bout of nausea. Just getting out of bed is a feat all of its own, like having an icy bucket of vertigo dumped over his head. It's all right, he tells himself, it's all right. It's a new place, a fresh start, a pick me up and drop me off somewhere precious darling all wrapped up in the tiny little one room apartment-with-kitchenette that the Tin Man so kindly pays for.
Squinting against the too harsh light of a car driving past down below, he jerks his head away as if slapped; angry steps carry him to the window to shut the blinds before someone catches a glimpse. Out on the streets he can at least pretend to be blending in, but all alone in his apartment, for every nosy neighbor to see, it isn't so easy being green. More than once he's considered wearing a mask of some sort, of finding a crafts store of some kind, make a cast of his face... Colored contacts aren't that hard to come by, and apart from the horns, there's nothing else he'd need to hide if he had a skin toned mask. Big nose and chin, no big deal. He could go out there during daylight hours, watch people being people, he could go to the movies or sit at a coffee shop with a nice book. He could buy the newspaper on his way to something like a normal life. He wouldn't ask for much.
In the darkness, he pours himself another two fingers of Scotch and downs 'em in one go. The robe hangs off his shoulder, but he doesn't care. It's suitable, really, considering how low he's gone. It isn't a question of how low anymore, just how fast he can get there.
He never asked to be a hero. He was a businessman, a people person, an artist and a somebody not too shabby. All he ever wanted was to help people get along and have a good time. It's something he still wants, it's the only thing he's truly good at.
It is the only thing he knows how to do.
...no. That's a lie.
He knows all about keeping the happy face on. He's the guy with the tassels on his shoes and the grin on his face and the extravagant get-up. He's avantgarde incarnate. He's the mascot of the team, the guy people go to to be cheered up or pep talked at. He's the glue that keeps everyone from falling apart - he gives them something to cling to that isn't doomy gloomy. Who cares if he's crashing and about to burst into flames? The show must go on. No matter how flaky your make up's getting, your smile stays put because the show. Must. Go. On. He'll enter stage left and play his part, he'll get the show on the road and keep it moving. He'll make drinks for everyone, he'll throw pet names and diminutives and naughty nicks at 'em all and they won't even see it coming. Anything to keep their mind off the last Big Bad in a long line of them.
Maybe he'll never be a hero, but he'll be one fabulous sidekick.
NAME/NICK: Sofie/Sofo.
JOURNAL: sochan.livejournal.com, but I rarely use it. Still, LJ Message works just splendidly if you need to contact me.
IM: AIM: sakuraofrureo
E-MAIL: sofie.pettersson@gmail.com
[CHARACTER INFO]
CHARACTER NAME: Given name is Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan, but he's never been proud of that name and title, and hasn't used it since coming to Los Angeles. Lorne prefers to be called just 'Lorne', but will use 'Lorne Green' as his name for signing stuff and starting accounts and such. Business-related stuff, you know.
FANDOM: Lorne is from the Buffyverse, more specifically from Angel: The Series.
CHRONOLOGY: Lorne enters Iron Man's domain shortly after the end of Not Fade Away, with all the angsty, character-shattering-and-building goodness that entails. He's had a year of Hellish proportions at Wolfram and Hart, and he's walked away from his last job as Angel's employee. This means he comes to Cape & Cowl, a murderer. More on that down below.
BACKGROUND: In essence, the Buffyverse world is like our real life world. It has all the shows we know and love, all the music and all the countries and cultures and wacky politics and past wars, all the junk in the trunk. But where we only have to worry about humans gone wrong, the residents of Buffy Land has to contend with vampires, demons galore and little kids playing with magic. It's a crazy, dark world, with a suitably dark sense of humour, and a highly developed penchant for irony. One of the main themes of A:tS is redemption. Is it at all attainable? Possibly, yes, but at what cost?
Vampires are believed not to be in possession of souls. This means vampires are rotten eggs, no exceptions (apart from Angel, of course, and later on, Spike). Demons, though, come in so many different varieties, it seems as though their to be evil or not to be evil is more a question of culture and upbringing than anything else. Do demons have souls? Lorne would say, if nothing else, he's got soul. More importantly, regardless of who you are, A:tS teaches us time and again that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, and that the world isn't painted in black and white, nor in shades of gray. It's all the colors of the rainbow, and then some. It's Hell on Earth, because Hell is on Earth. It doesn't matter how good you are, you'll inevitable be screwed over by the Powers that Be.
Lorne is hurled into the world of Los Angeles, circa 1996, after a lifetime of disappointments and heartache and believing himself to be insane. His birthplace, the very grueling demonic dimension of Pylea, is a world without music, without emotional expression, without the kind of joy that isn't readily associated with a town square slaughter. It isn't a good place to be, no matter if you're the only demon alive with music in his heart, or a human having peeked into the wrong, portal-opening book at the library.
Lorne finds his home in LA, which is something he never could in Pylea. He starts up a small business, a karaoke bar called Caritas, open to one and all. Over the years, he helps people find their paths by reading their auras.
He becomes friends with Angel & Co, and after a series of not entirely reassuring story hijinks involving a vampire pregnant with Angel's unborn son, and a vampire hunter from the 18th century come back to life to hunt Angel down, Lorne's bar is completely demolished. He moves into Angel's HQ, the Hyperion Hotel, and little by little grows to be an appreciated member of the team. But when things start to really go downhill - Wesley misinterpreting a prophecy to mean Angel's son will kill him, Angel's son being lost in a Hell dimension, coming back as a disturbed teen killing machine, Cordelia going into a comatose state after a demonic pregnancy, the team taking over the LA branch of Wolfram & Hart (a law firm which they have actively fought for four years prior), Cordy dying, Fred dying, and Angel taking it upon himself to crush the demonic big wigs of the sector...
When things go downhill, they really go downhill, and yet, Lorne perseveres. He stays loyal to his friends, even when Angel proposes to take down the Circle of the Black Thorn, an endeavor that will almost certainly kill them all. Even when Angel asks him to kill a man, he doesn't back out. What he does do, is let Angel know that it will be his last job, and that he'll leave LA afterwards, and Angel had better not come looking.
PERSONALITY: The last part of the background section really tells you what kind of person Lorne is without even touching on the subject of a karaoke-loving demon (he loves karaoke, and music, and pop culture). He's loyal to a fault. Win his trust and friendship, and he'll follow you into death. The thing I have loved about Lorne since the first time I got to see him in action is how he constantly challenges your preconceptions about what his kind of character's supposed to be like. He constantly contradicts his own stereotype, but not in any bad way. He's a demon, but he's a humanitarian. In fact, he loves humans. He is flamboyant and flirty, but he never gets involved with anyone. He loves music and musicals but can't stand Andrew Lloyd Webber's works. He is suave, worldly and eloquent, yet he constantly ends up the butt of the script writers' joke, either by blurting out a Freudian slip or by becoming the embarrassed object of scrutiny from his friends. His kith and kin keep humans as livestock and eat them on a regular basis much like humans do cattle and beef. Lorne hasn't had long pork since he left Pylea (and very probably longer than that). He's a pacifist born in a world where nothing speaks louder than the warrior's sword. The list goes on. He's kind, big- and warmhearted, and whether he knows you or not, he's always willing to lend a hand or an ear or a shoulder to lean on. He'll take almost any amount of abuse himself, but should you threaten his friends and/or patrons, you got another thing coming. He's generous. Cheeky. He's a total flirt and utter romantic, and he does. Not. Judge. People.
But when his friends start dying one after the other, Lorne starts changing. He works longer hours, he grows more quiet, doesn't smile or tease people as often as he used to. He grows more introvert, but stays loyal. It's his loyalty that's his final blow. After killing Lindsey in cold blood on that last, horrid night, Lorne changes for good. He doesn't trust himself anymore, and he certainly doesn't trust the Powers that Be anymore. He's killed a man, and that just puts everything in perspective. It doesn't matter that the man in question was a crazed, vindictive dabbler-in-black-arts who'd threatened Angel on a number of occasions. No one's perfect, and no one is good or evil through and through.
It's pretty much directly after this that Lorne finds himself facing the Iron Man. No more music. No more karaoke. He fears being found out more than anything, not just because he's green (I'd really love it if I could keep him looking the way he does in canon, oh, pretty please? Lorne isn't Lorne when he's Andy Hallet's face), but because of what he's done. He dreams of redemption. That is all.
CLASS: Hero in the closet. He's going to doubt his heroing capabilities for quite some time, but he just won't be able to stand by idly if someone needs his help. Although, all things considered, he'll keep a low profile and stick to neutrality as long as he possibly can. All that said, yes, he'll keep his dog tags. Just the fact someone believes he can be a hero means more than he'd be willing to admit even to himself.
SUPERHERO NAME: Jiminy Cricket. Or just Cricket. Either will do. "Always let your conscience be your guide," and all that jazz.
ALTER EGO: Lorne Green. He dreams of being the unseen, mysterious owner and proprietor of night club called Aequitas. Of course, he won't have this title and day (night) job at once. But it's a goal.
POWER: In canon, Lorne can read people's hearts, and therefore their intentions, their past and future to some extent; he can see where they're supposed to be right now, and how to get there. In A:tS, his power keeps expanding as the show goes on. At first, he can only read people's auras/hearts if he watches/listens to them sing. Later on, he doesn't even need the singing, he can just look them up and down if they're in an emotional enough state of mind. Given his ability to read the futures of people, he occasionally refers to himself as being prescient. However, he continuously fails to foresee the really big, bad things. On an unrelated note, his voice can actually shatter glass. Which brings to mind, I almost forgot the most freaky bits of his canonical powers. If Lorne gets his head chopped off, he doesn't die. His head retains all the quirky sass of his assembled self, and the only way he'll actually die of the condition is if his body is further mutilated. Side note: His horns grow back if chopped off or otherwise removed (owwies). Whedonverse and demons, honestly. Also, he has what us mortal humans would call a displaced heart.
It is located in his left buttock. The rest of his anatomy remains a mystery.
Plays the piano on occasion (I'd like to think he dabbles with the guitar too), used to love to sing and generally perform on stage. Not anymore so much, though. I see no need to amp up his powers from canon. I like them fine the way they are.
However, given Lorne's already existing mind powers, I'd very much like for him to be resistant to mind probing. If you're an empath, you learn to shut people out, or so I'd like to think. Also, given the canonical way he binge drinks, his blood alcohol level should be somewhere over the rainbow by now. The only toxin/poison Pyleans are directly susceptible to (in canon) is a secretion from a big, ugly beast found on their homeworld. So... shall we say mild to moderate resistance to Earth-based toxins?
COMMUNITY POST SAMPLE:
I know, it's the middle of the night, but I Just wanted to call, say I'm all right. Peachy keen with sprinkles on top, I swear... Helped a lady cross the street the other day, left before she could so much as squeeze my hand in her little wrinkly ones, and I can't help but wonder if I did the right thing leaving her all alone. For all I know, she was knifed down for pocket change the moment I left. You never know. Never assume everything's gonna be fine, darlings. No matter how many times you've witnessed miracles, never once start believing it'll be all right in the end. Never tell yourself it'll be okay.
I just called to say I'm fine. Just called to say I love you, whoever you are. Whoever's listening, you're a bright, shiny little starlet and you're perfect just the way you are. Somewhere, somebody loves you, sugar plum. Somewhere, someone's just waiting for you to find them. All you have to do is look closer, look before it's too late. Never doubt that you're loved. It's when you start doubting that you lose everything. It's when you let doubt get to you that you start making mistakes, and you can't afford mistakes in your line of work.
Love's not for sale. Human lives are. Remember that. You've seen it, yourself. Lives thrown away for the next big hit or the next high, the next tumble between dirty sheets and bended knees. You know what I'm talking about, and I know it sounds crazy. But if you knew half the things I've lived through, listening to me rant about the fatality of life and love in the middle of the night wouldn't seem so strange. It's about reaching out and connecting with someone, even if it's a stranger. It's about not getting close enough to sting or get stung. You can understand that.
...can't you?
I'm Jiminy Cricket, and I'll be your back up conscience for the night. You need me, just whistle.
THIRD PERSON:
Some nights, you just don't know why you bothered to get out of bed in the first place. For Lorne, it's been one long row of such days now, and he can't see why they should stop anytime soon. Every day it's the same thing. Nightmares, endless nightmares and not a sliver of a silvery lining in sight, nothing but the promise of a stiff drink in the little wee hours of the night to get him through the first bout of nausea. Just getting out of bed is a feat all of its own, like having an icy bucket of vertigo dumped over his head. It's all right, he tells himself, it's all right. It's a new place, a fresh start, a pick me up and drop me off somewhere precious darling all wrapped up in the tiny little one room apartment-with-kitchenette that the Tin Man so kindly pays for.
Squinting against the too harsh light of a car driving past down below, he jerks his head away as if slapped; angry steps carry him to the window to shut the blinds before someone catches a glimpse. Out on the streets he can at least pretend to be blending in, but all alone in his apartment, for every nosy neighbor to see, it isn't so easy being green. More than once he's considered wearing a mask of some sort, of finding a crafts store of some kind, make a cast of his face... Colored contacts aren't that hard to come by, and apart from the horns, there's nothing else he'd need to hide if he had a skin toned mask. Big nose and chin, no big deal. He could go out there during daylight hours, watch people being people, he could go to the movies or sit at a coffee shop with a nice book. He could buy the newspaper on his way to something like a normal life. He wouldn't ask for much.
In the darkness, he pours himself another two fingers of Scotch and downs 'em in one go. The robe hangs off his shoulder, but he doesn't care. It's suitable, really, considering how low he's gone. It isn't a question of how low anymore, just how fast he can get there.
He never asked to be a hero. He was a businessman, a people person, an artist and a somebody not too shabby. All he ever wanted was to help people get along and have a good time. It's something he still wants, it's the only thing he's truly good at.
It is the only thing he knows how to do.
...no. That's a lie.
He knows all about keeping the happy face on. He's the guy with the tassels on his shoes and the grin on his face and the extravagant get-up. He's avantgarde incarnate. He's the mascot of the team, the guy people go to to be cheered up or pep talked at. He's the glue that keeps everyone from falling apart - he gives them something to cling to that isn't doomy gloomy. Who cares if he's crashing and about to burst into flames? The show must go on. No matter how flaky your make up's getting, your smile stays put because the show. Must. Go. On. He'll enter stage left and play his part, he'll get the show on the road and keep it moving. He'll make drinks for everyone, he'll throw pet names and diminutives and naughty nicks at 'em all and they won't even see it coming. Anything to keep their mind off the last Big Bad in a long line of them.
Maybe he'll never be a hero, but he'll be one fabulous sidekick.