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Terry Gillet

"Blue skies, smiling at me. Nothing but blue skies do I see."

0 · 363 views · located in England

a character in “Smoke, Jazz, and Blood”, originally authored by Mr_Doomed, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

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Image

32

Singer/Performer

Heterosexual

French

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Appearance: Terry Gillet is a man with features that befit a man. He stands at 5 foot 8 inches (1.72 meters) and lives even taller. He is the pinnacle of physical strength from years of training in dance and the arts. Is eyes are a dark brown and his hair an even darker brown. The passing glance at Terry might trick the eye into thinking he has black hair. A notable feature is a small scar on the left of his face.

Gillet often wears flashy clothes of either great size or blinding colour. Bright vests and big jackets are his staple. However, he cleans up nicely and does own clothes that are more subdued in nature. That is mostly a reflection of his formal wear, though, which still manage to reflect his lavish, stand out side. He will opt for a neck tie as opposed to a bow tie on most days and enjoys rolling up his sleeves. It's more to show off his muscles than anything else.
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Personality: Terry's first love is performing. He can perform to an audience of just a few people or to an audience of hundreds and he will give the same amount of effort. All that matters to him is that he is giving something to his audience. He dedicates a fair amount of his days to his art too. At times, he will practice relentlessly until it is as perfect as it can be. Until then, his job isn't over.

Beyond his performance life, he is a rather flamboyant man. He is used to attention and attracts it even outside of his work. Some would say that he tries to live a lifestyle outside of his price range, but to him, it is just living life to the potential that he believes he is capable of. And to his defence, he has sustained that life for several years.

He values determination and dedication and tends to scoff at the lazy and unmotivated, but that isn't to say that Terry doesn't have a day or two where he will just relax. On those days, he tends to enjoy his solitude, reading a book or listening to records. He has dabbled in writing music as a hobby, but has never really been all that good at it. Yet still, his determination gets the better of him and he will write disappointing music and only grow frustrated with himself when he feels like he is getting nowhere with it.

At a party (which Terry will often be seen at), you will often see him stilling by or at the piano. He looks for his opportunity to play a song and sing for the crowds.

Terry's main vice would be his affinity for a smoke. He enjoys it much like one might a fine wine.
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History: Terry Gillet was born Thierry Guillet on a June afternoon in the late 1800's. His father, Emile Guillet was a physician. His mother, Anaïs Thierry (Maiden name, Picot) lived at home and provided for her family like a mother should. Thierry lived in Dijon for the first 3 years of his life. It was his mother's death that lead his father to move as far away from his old life as possible. It was said in the French community that he lived in that Emile wished to escape from the guilt that he felt for his affair, but most knew better. After Anaïs' died giving birth to Thierry's sister, Pénélope, Thierry decided to start a new life with his mistress where there would be no one to judge his actions. New York was the perfect escape with the perfect opportunities.

It was when Thierry was 5 when he changed his name to Terry. He picked up the American language much quicker than the rest of his family. It was at the age of 5 that he changed his name to Terry to Americanize himself and avoid any ridicule from the kids around his neighbourhood. The ridicule never really stopped though. It was now his accent that the kids would make fun of. He dedicated his time to pick up the American accent and eventually got good enough at it that most people who didn't know him couldn't tell that he was French. Most of the kids stopped picking on him after that.

Terry's family was lucky. He was able to afford a decent schooling. It was there that he started to notice the girls. He wanted to stand out from the rest of the guys around him. His father's mistress, Sylvie, whom Terry believed was his mother, told him that any good looking girl would get dolled up for a man who could sing and dance like in the theatres. This single conversation is what sparked Terry's dedication to performance.

The Great War ravaged the country and Terry's father was enlisted. His experience as a doctor was a pivotal roll in the war, which Terry viewed as a romantic endeavour over seas. A shelling in the trench that Emile was stationed at forced him to come home from the war early. Emile was lucky to live with his broken femur. It never set properly and he had a lot of trouble walking when it did heal. Over all, it changed Terry's father. His father would tell stories of the war and of France. All of the stories were likely untrue, but at the time, they seemed so real and so heroic. Emile sparked an interest in Terry's home country for him.

He met his first and only girlfriend when he was 15 year old. Ethel was her name. She was only a year younger than him. The two of them were inseparable and would go on to live many happy years together as a couple. But it didn't come without trouble. Another boy was vying for her attention at the time. The situation came to a head in a fight between the two that had broken out over her. In the middle of the fight, the boy pulled out a knife and cut Terry across the face, leaving a permanent scar.

Terry would later go onto Marry Ethel at age 21.

When Terry left home, he became a professional singer, dancer, actor. He made a very good name for himself. Meeting all the big names in the world of Broadway and Tin Pan Ally. He even met the famous Ziegfeld of the ever famous Ziegfeld Follies. Ziegfeld eventually offered Terry a part in one of his Follies shows. It was an opportunity of a lifetime and he couldn't see a reason to say no.

It was around this time that Emile finally admitted to Terry that his real mother had died in childbirth and that Sylvie had been his mistress. This broke Terry. This brought out a true fear of his. He came to a realization (whether this realization is deluded or not is not up to me to decide) that everything about his life and the city he lived in a was a lie. 25 years of his life had been wasted. Out of fear that he'd been lying to himself about his love, he divorced his wife. He declined Ziegfeld's show in fear that this too was a lie and then he moved to Paris, which he believed was a city with few secrets.

It was only after moving there that he realized that not much was different. His imaginings of Paris was yet another lie concocted from the tales of the war that his father would tell him. But he wasn't about to go back. He had to much pride to do that. Instead, he attempted to make his career in Paris. Paris wasn't as kind to him. He was an French American living in France. Despite being born in France, he was very much American.

Things have been looking up for him recently. A London producer had heard of his success in America and wishes to have a talent like that work for him. He's asked to meet Terry in his offices in Nottingham. But upon his arrival in Nottingham, he was informed that the producer is currently in London working on a show. He's bought a ticket to London in hope to finally become the performer he's dreamed of being.

So begins...

Terry Gillet's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dorothy Freeman Character Portrait: Lottie Andrew Character Portrait: Terry Gillet Character Portrait: Jackson Butler Character Portrait: Theolonius Alain Monke Character Portrait: Everette D. Osborne
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Dod hummed to herself while opening her book, The Beautiful and Damned, to where she had left off last. She had come rather early for her train back to London and so she sat in an train cabin car waiting for the train to leave the station. There was a chatter around her from those on the station, children and parents yelling, others hollering their goodbyes, people crying. It was a mess of cacophony, but Dod rather liked it and it somehow helped her focus a bit more. Image

With her bags stashed away safely, Dod raised her feet onto the seats across from her. She could vaguely see people passing in the corridor looking in at her disapprovingly. A woman at her age by herself, wearing pants, it wasn't necessarily unheard of, but these were the kind of women that the general population was told to stay away from. Keep their distance, so they kept on walking, clucking their tongues as they went. Though a few men whistled as they went past, still Dod read on. All of this wasn't necessarily new to her and so she could easily ignore it all. The only time she would look up is when someone actually had the gall to walk into her cabin and sit down.

"Jeepers, creepers, where'd you get those peepers. Jeepers, creepers, where'd you get those eyes. How they hypnotise," Dod sang as more people began to board the train. She knew all to well that at least one person would be sitting with her eventually, especially when the rest of the train cabins started to fill up more and her cabin would start to be the only one left with a seat. It amused her to say the least, when people did this, she didn't know exactly why, maybe because their sense of pretension seemed so silly to her. Either way waiting to see who would be the first to sit with her was a sort of game she played with herself. If someone sat down just as the train started move she would reward herself with a shot of whiskey for winning the bet, if someone sat down earlier she was punished by having to buy the person a drink, which really wasn't a punishment other the fact that she would be down a couple of pounds.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dorothy Freeman Character Portrait: Lottie Andrew Character Portrait: Terry Gillet Character Portrait: Jackson Butler Character Portrait: Everette D. Osborne
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“This is ridiculous!” Came shouts from one of the foremost cabins Disgruntled passengers looked on at the scene. Two men standing at the back of the cabin, facing off. The face off had already lasted ten minutes and it didn't look to be ending any time soon. “Does no one on this train appreciate the elegance of modern music?”

“We appreciate music sir, but some passengers have expressed their distaste for the kind of music that you've been playing. And besides, we are about to depart. Your phonograph will only skip and your recordings will be scratched.” One of the train's workers responded.

“I get it now. The stuffy Brits don't want to hear the offensive sounds of a Yank. Mark my words, years from now, when people stop listening to Ralph Williams, the sounds of George Gershwin will still be strong.” Terry said.

The air tasted foul with the stench of the argument and despite the cool weather, the train cabin was aflame with anger from many passengers and workers. The sounds, to Terry, were magical, but to most, they were just unwanted. Terry clasped his clammy palms in front of him and refrained himself from taking the argument any further.

“Regardless of your words, sir, I'll be taking the phonograph until we reach London.”

The whistle blew loud in the air and the sounds of the train's engine roared through the crowds outside waving away their loved ones as the train lurched across the tracks. Screeching metal slowly turned into a consistent rocking that echoed through the station. All of which played on top of the melody resonating from Terry's phonograph. The distinct smell of burning coal urged Terry to grab a cigarette from his breast pocket. He didn't light it just yet. Holding it alone was enough to calm his nerves. The worker went to his phonograph and lifted the needle. Now only the train's rumbles could be heard. “Might I suggest finding another cabin. One in which the patrons don't hate you.” The man said in such a way that you couldn't be offended by his words, but rather listen in awe of the correctitude of them

With that, Terry took out his lighter and lit his cigarette. He turned and exited the car. From one to the next, he went until he reached a car close to the back of the train. Every other cabin had been full up until that point. Terry had wished to have some room to stretch out his legs and enjoy the sounds of the train. If he wasn't allowed to listen to his own music, he was going to have to make due with what the world had to offer him.

The cabin that he chose to settle in was filled with only four people so far. The train had just started to move and other people were probably bound to come, stuck in the same sort of position as Terry had been, but for now, the cabin was comfortably filled. He was about to sit when he made a realization. The cabin was nearly empty, but almost everyone in the cabin had seemed to congregate around one area. Something interesting was happening and it sparked Terry's interest. He decided that he would go sit by the rest of the group as opposed to by his lonesome. Maybe he'd be interested in what these people had to offer him.

“I hope you all like music.” He said as he sat himself in the seat across from the others.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dorothy Freeman Character Portrait: Lottie Andrew Character Portrait: Terry Gillet Character Portrait: Jackson Butler Character Portrait: Theolonius Alain Monke Character Portrait: Everette D. Osborne
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"That was a beautiful show young blood, beautiful!"

The smell of burning coal was heavy in the air here, the walkways were paved with bodies. Among them, two brown skinned men that stuck out like a sore thumb, walked side by side. The first, was a tall man. A pair of circular frames surrounded a pair of dark brown eyes, that were in turn, surrounded by dark circles. The mark of a man unfamiliar with sleep. Humming to himself, a guitar case in his left hand, he slowly reached for the Lucky Strike cigarette behind his ear with his right. With a match from his pocket, he lit it. He took a long drag. And with the slightest smile on his face, he exhaled the smoke. This, was Theolonius Alain Monke, the man, the myth, the legend.

"But your chord on that last one, you, you know, the one about that Maria bird, it was sloppy," This man, with his wrinkled ebony skin, scraggly grey hair, and hunched back, was Mr. Huey Nathaniel King. The mentor and manager to Theo. He held up his hands, grabbing a non-existent guitar. "It's like this, see right here, lemme show you..." Theo didn't look. Instead, his eyes were trained on something else entirely. A blonde haired woman, darting through the crowd. A horn, cutting through the human chaos of the station. And through all of this, Huey still droned on.

"Mr.King," Said Theo, checking his watch as he quickened his pace.

"Ya fingers move too quick down the neck, take your time, like you're..."

"Mr. King!"

"What...?" Huey stopped.

"That's our train! We gotta book it!" And with that, the two musicians went flying down the walkway, weaving through the crowd.

* * *

"Mister Monke! We were getting worried that you wouldn't make it!"

An attendant, a man in a blue pinstriped vest and pants greeted a wheezing Theo and Huey, the last two passengers to board the train. Huey was nearly on the ground he was so hunched over. Theo was right in the middle of an extended coughing fit.

"Yeah well, we made it baby..." Theo exhaled, as he huffed and he puffed, and he leaned up against a wall beside him.

"....We've made the accommodations to the presidential cabin you've requested, right down to the Bechet records and brand of whisky." With an outstretched arm, he gestured down the hall before them. "If you'd like I could show you the way, it's the last room at the end of the hall." The attendant reached for the men's bags and Theo's guitar. The duo obliged with nods, and they took off down the hall after the man in the pin-stripped duds. "I must say, it's a such a great honor to have you here with us today," He turned his head towards Theo, "I am a huge fan, I LOVE 'Jumpin' out the woods', I sing Sent For You with my wife every morning!"

"Thanks kid. You should see my writing." He cooed. On their way down the hall, Theo glanced into each of the cabins, peering into the passengers they contained. "Looks like we're the only black folks again..." It was a sentence whispered just loud enough for only Huey to hear. The old man chuckled, just a bit.

As they neared the end of the hall, Theo over heard a few voices.

"I got myself a drink. Does anyone want one? I can go back." Said a man from within the cabin beside him.

Over his shoulder, he took a closer look. There were four of them, three men, two women. The one woman, he had seen before--it was that blonde from outside. But the other...she was something else entirely. A devilish smirk crept it's way onto the veteran's face, as he sauntered over to the cabin.

"Put me down for one baby, Cuba Libre, on the rocks." There, he leaned in the doorway, eyes trained towards the women in particular. But he made sure to tip his hat to them all.

"Theolonius Alain Monke--friends call me Theo. It's a pleasure."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dorothy Freeman Character Portrait: Lottie Andrew Character Portrait: Terry Gillet Character Portrait: Jackson Butler Character Portrait: Theolonius Alain Monke Character Portrait: Everette D. Osborne
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Dod smirked to herself as another woman came into the cabin just as the train started to move, That's a shot for me, she thought, turning the page of her book. The woman, from what Dod could tell in the corner of her eye, pulled out her own book and started to read. At first it looked as though Dod was going to have a fairly quiet train ride with just the other woman and both of them reading, but then a man came in, not too loudly thankfully, and he walked up to the two.

"You got enough room in this car for an American?" he asked. Then another man entered before Dod could answer, only to leave after setting all his stuff down. Image

"Well there's plenty of room cowboy, I don't think anyone here is going to stop you," Dod answered, her eyes lifting from her book briefly so she could smile at this man. He was rather young with dark curly hair.

The second man came back in, "I got myself a drink. Does anyone want one? I can go back." He said.

Dod stood up, setting her book neatly on her suitcase, "Might as well go with you, I have need Whiskey Smash," she looked to the woman who had come in before the other, "Do you want me to pick anything up for you doll?" she asked.

Another person came in, Dod looked around thinking she earned herself a drink for everyone who had come in last minute. Even though it was a larger train cabin, Dod was hard pressed to remember if there had ever been so many people sharing a cabin with her.

"I hope you all like music," this new man said.

"Depends," Dod answered, slumping to one hip and looking at him in mock scrutiny, "I prefer jazz to classical myself." She smiled and began to walk to the door heading back to the bar car only to be stopped by a man leaning against the door frame. He tipped his hat at everyone.

"Theolonius Alain Monke--friends call me Theo. It's a pleasure," he said.

"Pleasure is all mine. The name's Dod Freeman," she answered, tipping her own hat to everyone in mock of this man in the doorway, though she sent him a wink before exiting to fill her own order of drinks.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dorothy Freeman Character Portrait: Lottie Andrew Character Portrait: Terry Gillet Character Portrait: Jackson Butler Character Portrait: Theolonius Alain Monke Character Portrait: Everette D. Osborne
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#, as written by museman
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Jackson was able to slither through the mass of people in the cabin. He popped out into the corridor and stuck his landing. He brought his hands up to his sweater vest and dusted off his shoulders and upper chest. He held his glass with a somewhat forceful grip so that he wouldn't drop it. He never wasted and drink and never will. Even though his father was a huge alcoholic, Jackson won't turn down a drink for any reason unless it was several in and he could risk being drunk. He fixed himself upright and took a sip of his scotch. The liquid stung his throat, but no matter, Jackson took one more sip before stopping himself. It was still early morning and he didn't want to get too buzzed.

Turning to view the English country side scenery, the bright light from the sun made Jackson's eyelids shut with terror. He moved his hand above his eyes and provided a visor for himself. With all the talking going on Jackson decided to start making his way to the bar. He had no idea if the one woman would accompany him, but no matter. Jackson made his way in and walked up to the bar. He shot a half smile at the bartender who winced back at him. Placing his glass on the counter, the bartender swung his hand around to the container of scotch, but as he poured Jackson stopped him. He placed his hand over his glass and the bartender backed off. Jackson uttered one word. "Water." The bartender rolled his eyes "Alright, Sir." He brought out a wine glass and a pitcher of water. He dumped enough water out to fill the glass to the brim. Jackson nodded in thanks and proceeded to pick the glass up. He heard a voice shout from the corner of the bar "Sissy." Jackson slowly turned to see a big, burly, bald man with a handlebar mustache approach him. Jackson placed the glass down and peered at the big man. "Did I do something wrong?" The man smirked and made a fist with his hand. Jackson quickly grabbed the scotch in one hand and wineglass in the other and sped out of the room. He escaped by a hair of a second as the man swung and hit the counter. Jackson walked back to the cabin "I would be careful going down to the bar. There is some big scoundrel."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dorothy Freeman Character Portrait: Lottie Andrew Character Portrait: Terry Gillet Character Portrait: Jackson Butler Character Portrait: Theolonius Alain Monke Character Portrait: Everette D. Osborne
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LOTTIE ANDREW


And there went her peaceful, quiet ride to London. Ah well, at least there aren't any children, Lottie muttered to herself as some sort of consolation. After silently smiling at each of the unfamiliar men who entered the cabin and began conversing with one another, she lifted up her coat and hat and placed them on her lap to open up the seat for the others. The woman who introduced herself as 'Dod' seemed to be handling the conversations well enough so she felt no need to talk to anyone. That was until the same woman asked her a question. Quickly weighing her options, Lottie pushed herself up from the seat and placed her belongings where she sat.

"I think I'll come with you, if you don't mind," the blonde said with a small smile and a soft voice, after she realized that a short trip to the bar at the end of the car would be far less painful than having to stand a conversation with three men.

After carefully stepping out of the cabin, Lottie followed Dod hastily to the bar, ignoring what one of the men had mentioned to her and the group. She was already feeling relieved to be away from the mass of strangers that she'd likely be forced to spend the duration of the trip with. There were too many people in there for her liking. It was unnerving.

At the bar, Lottie stood at the counter with her arms behind her back, but did not order anything. She simply let her eyes wander around the room and out the windows, as she didn't get to see what the inside of her train looked like when she first sat down.

"That cabin is awfully jam-packed, wouldn't you agree?" Lottie said with a smile, her voice quiet and hesitant at her own attempt of friendly conversation. She hoped that the woman she was talking to would be as friendly as she looked.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dorothy Freeman Character Portrait: Lottie Andrew Character Portrait: Terry Gillet Character Portrait: Jackson Butler Character Portrait: Everette D. Osborne
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Everyone in the cabin that Terry decided to sit in decided to keep coming and going. No one seemed willing to keep seated for even a mere moment. This was going to be the cause of a long train ride for Terry. He felt around his pockets for another dart, but could find none. He looked up at the two men in the cabin and was about to ask one of them for a ciggy, but the younger one walked off before he even had a chance ask. He looked out towards where the young lad went and decided that he was going to follow. He'd have better luck finding a cigarette somewhere else.

Terry looked at the only other man in the car now. “I'm off to find some fresh air. If you want to join me, come on along.”

Terry latched onto his knees and pushed himself out of his chair. He followed down the corridors that all the others had gone, figuring that there was a place to bum or buy a cigarette off of someone. The corridors were narrow, but provided a sufficient amount of light from the windows which aided in the appearance of more space. Midway down the hall, the pair of women from his brief encounter in the cabin were standing. The one on pants held her meekly held her cheek while the blonde stood beside her likely for comfort.

In the next hall over, there was the bar. The perfect place to sit down and attempt his search for his next smoke. However, there seemed to be a commotion. The young man who had just left him was getting the beat down. A man held him while another held a bottle.

“Hey!” Terry shouted. The two men looked over as Terry reached into side pocket. A moment of surprise struck over Terry's face as he picked out a cigarette, which he proceeded to light and take a drag from before continuing. “You two wet blankets better beat it before I give what's comin' to you.” Again, he reached into his pocket, this time to pull out a small pocket knife, which he licked open to point at the two goons.

The two men paid little heed to Terry's warnings and continued to shake hold down the young kid. Terry approached the fighting trio slowly, taking another drag from his cigarette. This time he nearly expending the whole thing in one breath. When he got close enough, the men started to talk big. “Stay back.” They said. “This is none of your business.” But Terry ignored their warnings. He could spot an idol threat and there was nothing for the guys to do. Either they focused their attention on Terry and let the kid go or they started beating down the kid and find themselves running with knife wounds so he continued forward. Instead of raising his knife hand, however, he took a final breath room his ciggy and was about to put it into the ashtray near by, but instead, pressed it hard against the one man's arm. He let out a yelp and let go of the kid. The man had no time to turn around to swing a punch at Terry, because before he knew it, there was a knife pressed hard against his back.

“Walk away now while you still can. The both of you.”

The two men didn't say another word, running off before they could find any more trouble.

“You ever live in a big city, kid? Too many of these goons to count. Don't walk around without one of these knives close to my side, but its saved me a couple of times.”

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Character Portrait: Dorothy Freeman Character Portrait: Lottie Andrew Character Portrait: Terry Gillet
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Everette was surprised when he opened his eyes that he was not a bloody mess, and in fact was saved by the music connoisseur from earlier. Even though Everette should have been thrilled to have his face intact, his heart sunk when he realized the man could not have seen where he put a few on their asses and had to have only seen the part where he was put on his ass. Regardless he was thankful.

“You ever live in a big city, kid? Too many of these goons to count. Don't walk around without one of these knives close to my side, but it’s saved me a couple of times.”

Everette was not surprised the man was French, but slightly relieved since Everette had fought alongside the French and he was of sorts sick of Englishmen at the moment.

“I actually spent time in Indianapolis and Chicago. I took a summer or two in Long Island, but I assure that was hardly a city. I suppose I just never kept the company of their likes,” said Everette conversationally, now holding his cheek from where the man’s punch landed.

Everette thought of at least pointing out the fact that a few were dealt of on his part; mostly to point out that Americans or him personally were not that weak. However, he thought it futile and trivial, so instead he thought he would strike up a friendly conversation with the man.

“Why don’t you walk with me and tell me your origin. I am going to check on the lady, Dod I think, but I would enjoy your company and a man such as yourself could no doubt cheer her up,” inquired Everette as he adjusted his vest. He was dressed relatively nicely, but everything about his outfit was ruffled and crinkled now, loosely fitting in a casual manner, but Everette decided he did not mind it that much.

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Character Portrait: Terry Gillet Character Portrait: Everette D. Osborne
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Terry chuckled a little at the boy's response. It was clear that he didn't know the big city all too well. The train might have been taking off from Nottingham, but it was headed to London. There was bound to be a slice from every corner of the big city pie.

“Folks like them enjoy kicking around the dirt cheep speakeasys in New York. Paris is a whole different story. You'll find them almost everywhere.”

He slipped up to the bar and bought a couple more cigarettes while the kid continued on. The guy seemed to want to say more to him on the subject, but didn't go about it. Terry lit one of his cigarettes. This one he was going to savour. It wasn't often that he got a chance to buy cigarettes from such a swanky place. He was sure that this one was going to be great. He slowly sucked in and his body slipped off into another world or a moment. Perfection.

“Why don’t you walk with me and tell me your origin.”

“You want to know about me, then? Okay, let's talk. The name's Terry Gillet. You may have heard of me, but probably not. I was a performer in New York City. Got to meet quite a few interesting folk. Cole Porter, Al Jolson, Marion Harris, and even Mr. Ziegfeld himself. I had a moment with Charlie Chaplin at a party a couple of years back. Although, we'll see how much longer he's relevant with the Jazz Singer and whatnot. You see it? Absolutely brilliant, I say. Anyway, chose to leave t all behind and move to my home country of France, but couldn't find work. I've too much pride to go back home and now I'm here to see a big producer and hopefully make it big in Europe. We'll see.”

By this point, the two men had reached the corridor that the two ladies had been. They weren't there any longer. “Looks like the dames have up and left. Wonder where? Now what's your name? What are you up to?”

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Character Portrait: Terry Gillet Character Portrait: Jackson Butler Character Portrait: Everette D. Osborne
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Everette listened to the man’s story with great attentive attitude, and he did so as he held his cheek in the slightest manner, making it seem as casual as possible. The French man, Terry Gillet, was an aspiring man in the musical arts, something Everette could relate to, and he apparently had been somewhat if not successful enough, something Everette could not relate to. Sadly, unlike Terry, Everette had not had any luck, or rather any talent, in the music industry as a writer or composer of music, but it heartened him to hear of the aspiring man that could have been Everette in another life, even though he had the lungs of a cricket and the vocal capabilities of a walrus. Listening to the man, Everette recognized some of the names that Terry bounced off from his exciting career, and a sudden flare of connection sprang from one of the names that he had too met.

“I met ole Charlie a couple years back as well, well only a few, and I wrote music for him. Well, pitched music to him for maybe the chance to write,” chirped Everette, excited that he had such a grand story as the obviously prestigious man, but he left the story at that, not including the rejection part to his tale.

“Must of missed you in New York. However, I think your name might of chimed its way passed my ears before. I met a flapper in Tennessee once, quite a spirit for my rural days, and she and I were smitten from the start. I think she was the one to said it, maybe, or was it in Chicago that I heard it? She and I went steady for a while, but when I got back from the war I found her…” Everette trailed off, obviously getting into deep thought, and when he noticed he fell into those depths he automatically corrected his posture, especially not wanting to bring that to light.

“I digress, and I am terribly sorry for that. Name’s Everette D. Osborne. Well, Dr.Osborne technically, not the medical kind though. I joined the war as soon as it started, and they told me I did well, even though never felt like it. What good came of it was that my metals help me get my honorary doctorate in Chemistry, but my true passion is writing music. Was. Anyway, I was a chemist after the war and floated around the East Coast for a while, but war got me down so I came here,” said Everette.

He looked around, totally forgetting about the woman he came looking for, and the pain from the punch was nearly gone. He looked around for something to do.

“Whaddya say we go catch a drink at the bar, on me. A thank you for saving my ass back there. I also thought I saw the fellow American walk that way. Shall we?”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dorothy Freeman Character Portrait: Lottie Andrew Character Portrait: Delilah Blanc Character Portrait: Terry Gillet Character Portrait: Theolonius Alain Monke Character Portrait: Everette D. Osborne
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"I lived in France during the war," Dod explained to Lottie, "In the end it was about as good a place to hide as England, but I would never trade my time in France for anything."

"Pick your poison ladies. The drinks come with the cabin, so let's make sure to use 'em," Theo announced. When Dod looked to him and noticed for the first time that he had changed clothes.

"Might as well take a Whiskey Smash as my last one ended up getting smashed," Dod said wit a quirk in her lips. She stood up and went over to make her own drink.

"Alright everyone," Theo said lifting his own glass, "To new friends, old friends, and this side of the world treating me way better than the states ever did!"

"Santé!" Dod said taking a sip of her drink, "Now if you'll excuse me I should probably get my stuff if we are to stay here for the journey. I'll grab your stuff as well Lottie." With that Dod momentarily left the Presidential cabin and made her way back to the one she had originally found. Just outside the door were two of them men from earlier, the polite, young boy who rekindled the fight and the man with the love for music.

"Are you alright?" she asked the younger man, briefly leaning against the wall. Though completely unneeded, Dod did find it rather noble of him, especially considering they were complete strangers. There was some thudding going down the corridor, going away from where they stood, but Dod could still see what was happening. It was the great bimbo of a man trying to be helped by a small woman, but he kept shoving her away.

"Poor dame," Dod whispered, tilting her head to rest on the wall, "Though nothing can be done," with that she walked into the cabin and slowly gathered her things, as well as the items that she saw Lottie handle earlier, her arms getting quite full.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Dorothy Freeman Character Portrait: Terry Gillet Character Portrait: Everette D. Osborne
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Not long after waiting the man’s response, the woman who he had defended earlier had appeared before him again, and not only with a gleaming smile that would make you believe that she had never had a care in her life, especially not had been wailed on not but ten minutes prior, but also with fresh whiskey. This woman does not miss a beat, thought Everette, commenting on her not taking any time to refill her cup and let nothing affect her. But then his worn eyes, the eyes of a man that had seen too much, met her lively eyes and he saw the thought she had.

Poor bloke, he wasted his fists. I obviously had it.

Again, he damned his Tennessee blood and his American soul; it was a characteristic for America to be the first to help and the first to be criticized for it, whether they deserved it or not. Criticism or help. He wished he thought of where he was, the European way of letting it be and the won battle is a win, but where he grew up he knew of the Hatfield and McCoys. Helping was right and there was no victory until the war was one, no celebration and no rest for a mere won battle, and as well as the mentality of finishing the fight. But, beyond his spirit, he had other reasons he was compelled to help the dark haired Dod.

It was because she reminded him of someone; reminded him of her. A touchy subject that attached him to the stranger since she was completely a spitting image, but also compelled him to be bitter to her, never trusting her in fear she will turn out like the last. In truth, he would stay distant, or try his best, and see where that led him. Besides, even from a mile away he could sense that the shy one from earlier, the blonde, was highly taken by her, smitten even. She began to speak.

“Are you alright?”

She seemed only half concerned, as if he had done it himself and he was silly for it, and in her defense it was completely true.

“Lucky bastard- er, please pardon my language,” he said rather awkwardly, flooding memories he had tried to forget pouring in, he had forgotten he was not familiar with this woman as he was the last.

“One of them got off a lucky shot, and I would be done in if not for this here camarade,” he said this in almost fluent French he had learned fighting alongside them in war, “mais un counteau emporte poings,” Everette added, this time in less impressive French but still a noble attempt.

She remarked upon a woman in the corridor, but he paid little heed. He was fixated on the moving and breathing mirror image of his past, and somehow his thoughts turned back to his coin. He reached for it, but only found an empty pocket.

You’re on your own now, Everette old boy, he thought to himself. He felt that this trip was about to get interesting, but he did not know of that was a good thing...