Terrance Lesner
It was a simple life Terrance Lesner lived aboard the Rooster, ever since snagging a position as staff a short while ago. The days had been somewhat peaceful if you compared them to those days of not knowing where your next meal came from, and being terrified of the unseen blade across your throat while you slept, simply because you owned a loaf of bread. Now, all he had to truly worry about was whether or not the guests aboard the Rooster were making a mess, or if any authorities who might recognize him were snooping about, though that was unlikely given his efforts to cover up his tracks.
Oh, and there was also this damned Arm.
How awesome would it be if he could scratch the itches under it, or if it wasn't insanely miserable to go around in the cold or heat. When he was younger, he perhaps might have thought it cool to have a metallic arm with which to punch people to death, but that was before he realized the hassle you have to undergo daily to even keep the thing from getting infected. People would also question him if he did not keep it hidden, so wearing his red coat had become signature of him for a while now. The Arm was probably the worst thing he never asked for, on top of the poverty that plagued his early life, though nowadays he was faring a lot better.
Terrance snapped back to reality and then sighed to himself. He needed to get work done so he could get paid. There was no incentive to think about things he was unable to change. In fact, he decided to tell himself that if he worked harder then he would eventually earn even more than he was now. This would be great if it turned out to be true, considering people had just finished breakfast and weren't too clean about it, so dishes and trash were in abundance anywhere a guest had recently been. He made his objective to retrieve any dishes that were dirtied by guests, and clean them to the point where one could safely eat off them as quickly as possible. Achieving this, he then dealt with the floor of the train, picking up any trash and throwing it in a bin with accuracy only one who had spent the past few months straight doing so could accomplish. He worked with the determination of a proud warrior, and soon enough, the areas he had been managing were spotless and beautiful. Some could even say the train was a bit more presentable than it was before, and in regards to dishes and the floor, perhaps they were correct.
He was moving up in the world, wasn't he? Though it was not that great of a leap, considering he just moved from being a thief to cleaning a train. Oh well.