CAVALLO, joshua dean

[jersey2]

JOSHUA CAVALLO

full name joshua dean cavallo
nicknames josh, mr. cavallo, mr. c
type original
gender male
age twenty-two
birthday july ninth
group faculty
clique n/a
grade n/a
sexuality heterosexual
occupation english teacher
face claim ian harding
alias jersey

persona
family-oriented, approachable, easy-going, optimistic, strategic, committed, passionate, romantic, chivalrous, risky, trendsetter, intelligent, book worm, organized, self-sufficient, helpful, athletic, good-humored, patient.

life
Josh has always been a good sport about life and the challenges he must overcome. His optimistic personality aided him through a rough patch in his parent’s marriage as well as the mounds of homework college provides. He’s sociable, too. If he’s using some sort of public transportation, Josh doesn’t hesitate to begin a conversation with the person sitting next to him. Needless to say, he was a popular kid in high school. He’d probably fit under the preps more than anything else. Josh always preferred English over anything else. He was a magnificent writer then and now. On the side, he played basketball and lacrosse, and he’s considering taking on the basketball team as a coach. Living in Chicago for most of his life, he was comfortable with the city. He stayed around for college until deciding he wanted a change of scenery. Manchester was his pick, and he enjoys the town so far. The people are friendly, and the job pays well enough. He’s living the prime years as a bachelor. His one bedroom apartment reflects his trendy personality accurately. Modern furniture interlaced with literate references sums it up. In the cupboards, cup-a-noodles are as gourmet as it gets.

roleplaying sample
Anthony wasn't nameless for long. The bartender knew her as if she came every day. From the looks of her, Tony couldn't say he was surprised. She looked like she'd hit up the bar often. Her bleach-blonde hair, nice rack, and confidence screamed regular into his tipsy face. He quirked his brow after she ordered Patron. He was unsure if he was surprised. After awhile, alcohol lost its buzz, and he could once again pass her for a serial drinker. She just had that look. Of course, who was he to say she was a drunk whore? He didn't know her. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. His eyes darted away from her frame at the bartender. He was busy mixing drinks for other customers, and Tony was waiting for yet another shot. He didn't intend to take more than one. He had business to attend to the next day; however, that didn't deter him from yet another round. His mind was beginning to surrender to the vodka's every command.

"Tristan?" the whore called. Anthony ignored her. No, he wasn't fucking Tristan. Tristan wouldn't be caught dead in this joint. He'd probably freeze up in the disco light, splutter aimlessly, and faint or some other shit. Was Tony experiencing any of those symptoms? No. He was perfectly calm. With that reasoning, he decided it was blatantly apparent that he was not his twin brother. He laughed at her next comment. See what he meant? Tristan was a pussy. Anthony couldn't think of any other reason to be miserable in a place like this. With booze and plenty of willing females to go around, Tony couldn't imagine being miserable here. Nevertheless, he kept his eyes looking forward. The rows of liquor seemed much more interesting to him than some random chick who hung out with his brother. Honestly, who would take Tristan to a club? As "cool" as he used to be, the boy didn't have two pennies worth of common sense if the things Tony had recently heard about him were factual.

From what Tony was hearing, he was beginning to peg his brother as a whiny, poverty-stricken stalker. It wasn't the greatest title to be known for, but Tony wasn't all that surprised. After his kid-- whatever her name happened to be-- was born, Tristan lost his touch. Tony easily overthrew him from his thrown and began to rule. That's how it had to be from now on, wasn't it? Sooner or later, they'd know his name, not Tristan's. That's the way life was supposed to be. "I'm so confused right now," the blonde concluded. Finally, Anthony turned to her with a smirk on his lips. He thanked the bar tender for yet another drink, tipped his head back, and offered the woman his hand. "Anthony Montgomery," he greeted her. "You don't seem to be the kind of person I pictured Tristan to spend his time with," he observed. He glanced at her shots of patron and then the bartender. "Chad, her drinks are on me tonight," he informed him. Before she could inquire why or argue with him, he added, "Any friend of Tristan's is a friend of mine." This, he'd admit, was the alcohol talking. In reality, he couldn't care less about Tristan and his unexpected company, though she did seem to have a lot to offer.