General Information
Name
Elliot Jean Monroe, but most just call him Monroe. He despises his first name after a childhood of being called "Little Ellie", and oftentimes won't even give out his first name when meeting people.
Gender
Male
Age
Twenty-Six-Years-Old
Birthdate
March 9
Occupation
Primarily a chef extraordinaire, but he also helps run a cafe that just so happens to be a front for a less than legal venture.
Appearance
Hair Color
Monroe has thick, dark brown hair that is admittedly longer than he would like, but, in the midst of his chaotic life that fluctuates between painfully structured and disturbingly hectic, he never seems to have the time to go get his haircut. However, despite its length, his hair is extremely well kept, neat and often partially slicked back to keep it from falling in his eyes. After all, who wants to be cooked for by a completely messy chef?
Eye Color
Dark brown eyes that crinkle delightfully with every smile but have perpetual dark shadows beneath from a mixture of stress and exhaustion.
Height
Monroe is admittedly a bit of a shorty at 5'9.
Scars
Most people would assume that Monroe's skin is an unblemished as anyone else who regularly avoids sports and life in the fast lane as much as possible. If only that were true. His right palm has a scar tracing from in between his thumb and index finger and trailing to just below his pinky from where he accidentally sliced his hand in a kitchen accident. However, that thin line pales in comparison to the large, ugly, almost star shaped scar on his lower left abdomen, mimicked perfectly on his back from where a bullet went clean through him two years before.
General Appearance
Short and a bit stocky, Monroe is far from a muscle man or one of those tall and svelte almost models that seem to be wandering around the neighborhood. That being said, he's not totally without brawn, but is more on the lithe side with wiry muscles more from the physical demands of running a busy and successful kitchen as well as from jogging. His features are more round and boyish in appearance giving the illusion youth despite the fact that he's nearer to thirty than twenty. The stubble on his face is less of a fashion statement and more of a nuisance that developed since his move to New York, Monroe often forgetting to shave or simply not caring enough to put in the effort. Monroe's most interesting and telling feature is his smile that, while sadly rare these days, is entirely infectious, lighting up his face and, more often than not, causing unconscious grins to form on the people around him.
Growth
Growing up, Monroe was admittedly a socially awkward and withdrawn youth simply because he didn't fit in where he was growing up. While most boys were throwing themselves enthusiastically into sports like football and basketball as well as video games, he couldn't even fake an interest in it, instead gravitating towards less "manly" pursuits like cooking and reading. Of course, children react to differences as they will, full of taunts and intentionally or, as time passed, unintentionally excluding their different peers. However, instead giving into peer pressure in an effort to fit in, he withdrew from his classmates and buried himself in his studies, each day passing achingly slowly as excelled in schoolwork but failed miserably in the art of social interaction. It didn't help that his older sister insisted on bothering him at home as well once they no longer attended the same schools, and his only relief from her was when she disappeared to some lesson or game, when he could manage to be around his busy parents, or when he finally bought a lock for his bedroom door. A childhood of tedium, as it were, broken up only by the few things he enjoyed.
He did not, however, become completely despondent. While resigned to the fact that he'd have to deal with his peers until he graduated he was by no means going to sit back and take it. That is where his cleverness came into play. He responded to taunts and teases with an improvisational grace that Groucho Marx would have envied, snarky comments rolling off of his tongue ease. When his witty retorts failed him, however, his cleverness did not. One memorable scene from high school involved the boy in the desk behind him constantly prodding his back with a pencil, but stopping every time the teacher turned around. Monroe did ask nicely for him to stop, but to no avail, so he did what he had to do. When the teacher was turned away, he quickly flipped his tormentor's desk over causing books, papers, and, yes, the boy himself to go tumbling to the floor, and, before the teacher could even turn and react, Monroe simply uprighted the desk. The tormentor got a verbal lashing from the teacher for messing about and a newfound realization that, even if he had told the teacher what Monroe had done, why would she believe him?
Only after high school did Monroe really begin to blossom. As it turns out, the world is a much larger place than the neighborhood he grew up in, and he flourished in his new surroundings. At culinary school and at the various restaurants he worked in, he slowly began to peek out from his clever shell and enjoy life. For the first time, he went out with colleagues and peers, going for drinks, to the movies, on trips around Europe, grand adventures for him. Monroe was more sociable and enjoying life instead of just going along the tedium. He could strike up conversations now and delighted in doing so.
Now, forced back to the city that had chewed him up and spat him back out in his youth, Monroe has not completed reverted back to his old ways. He's still a sociable person, going out for drinks when he can, but he's less vibrant now, duller in comparison to the blossoming young man in France. He's tired, so tired, and life is wearing him down once again, grinding away at the dreams that had seemed so feasible only four years ago.
Worst Traits
-His inability to say no; while not much of a people pleaser, when someone truly needs help, Monroe finds it difficult to say no. That doesn't go for everyone, of course, but if he sees that they really do need help, he'll reluctantly step in and help them shoulder the burden.
-Frustration; Monroe is easily frustrated with incompetence, whether it's his own or others, especially when someone isn't trying. That can lead to some rather frightening confrontations because he might not be the most threatening person, but he does now how to deliver a "Reason You Suck" speech with such finesse that it's been known to make grown men cry.
-Perfectionism; What makes him a great chef makes him a slightly neurotic human being. He wants everything that he does to be perfect, so, when a situation is out of his hands, it makes him incredibly nervous.
-Bravery; He's not a big guy, as mentioned before, but he's not one to take most things lying down if he has a choice. That is, of course, why he currently has an awful, awful scar on his abdomen.
Best Traits
-Loyalty; Monroe isn't the kind of person to leave when the going gets tough. He sticks by his friends and, unfortunately, family and won't leave them in a crisis.
-Helpfulness; Alright, so, yes, it's awful that he can't say no to anyone, but it can be a perfectly lovely trait as well. Say you need help bringing the groceries in; Monroe will lend a hand. Did you forget your umbrella? Why, sure, Monroe will walk you to your car.
-Cleverness; As mentioned in his personality growth, Monroe is a clever man. He thinks out a situation and tries to work around it, which, more often than not works out for the best.
-Determination; No one, and I mean no one, can beat Monroe in a contest of wills. There's a reason that he's still paying off his sister's debt despite everything instead of simply chucking it in and fleeing back to Europe or, as he is unfortunately often tempted to do, blow his own brains out. He has a will of iron and will do what he's come to do.
-Good food, no matter where it's from
-Light wines, whisky, and brandy
-Dogs
-Warm rooms on cold days
-His family with one exception
-Jogging
-Cooking
-Traveling to interesting places
-Murder mystery books and television shows
-Reading
-Microwave dinners
-His sister
-Sappy, romantic films
-Most sports
-Narcotics
-Smugness; it drives him up the wall
-High School
-Extreme heat and cold
-To move back to France. Or Italy. Basically anywhere but where he is now.
-To work in some of the best restaurants in the world
Fears
-Being trapped where he is, paying off his sister's debt for the next fifty years or at least until someone gets murdered. It could be him, of course, but he's not exactly picky at this point.
-Being alone for the rest of his life. Not on a romantic level, but considering a majority of his friends are in Europe⊠Maybe he should get a dog�
History
Elliot Monroe had a less than pleasant childhood. It wasn't that he grew up in an abusive household, nor was it that drugs or alcohol played much of a part in his unhappy younger years, but rather a mixture of constantly working parents, an overshadowing and smug older sister who delighted in harassing her younger brother, and his own inability to fit in. Born to Davis, an cubicle drone in one of New York's infinite amount of corporations, and Kelly Monroe, a nurse at the Presbyterian University Hospital of Columbia and Cornell, Monroe's parents were work-a-holics, often leaving their apartment before the sun had fully breached the horizon and only returning after it had almost disappeared. It wasn't that they were bad parents, just busy parents who didn't really understand or, unfortunately, try to understand the plight that is their youngest son who instead had to fight off the trials and tribulations that were growing up primarily by himself.
Even from a young age, Monroe knew he was different. When other boys ran off to play sports or generally rough house, Monroe, then known as Elliot, was stuck on the sidelines with a book or a puzzle to keep himself entertained. Forgoing those simple activities has the labels of "different", "strange", and "just-not-right" unceremoniously slapped onto him, setting the bleak tone for the rest of his public school career. Oh, he wasn't completely in solitude. There were a few like-minded boys, but they drifted apart, blending back into the crowd, faking that they were the same as any other boy their age to void further harassment. Then there were a couple of girls, but it was only so long before terms like "fag" get thrown around in situations like those. It got better in high school, if you considered being ignored better, which Elliot very much did.
It was all made worse by his older sister, a young girl who had been spoiled rotten until the arrival of her younger brother, which forced her doting parents to not only split their attention, but also to pick up those long, extra hours to keep the entire family taken care of. Karen Monroe resented her little brother and rejoiced in annoying, bothering, and, yes, bullying him. Karen teased him at home and at school, perpetuating the rumors that swirled around, but would only shrug innocently when confronted with anything that she'd done to bother her brother. She was popular, pretty, successful in everything she threw herself into, and, only to Elliot, smug. It was the way she smirked at him as he glowered in annoyance, it was the honeyed words that she used to protest her innocence when he finally told their parents, it was the way her face twisted when he was told off for telling lies, it was every time she said "Little Ellie". It was just so⊠so smug. Smug, smug, smug. Elliot, now Monroe, hated smug.
Everything got simultaneously worse and better when he discovered cooking. Worse in that that was just that much more ammo for people to throw at him because cooking was a girl thing, right? But it was an escape, something to be passionate about in an otherwise tedious journey to young adulthood. So, he got a job working at a local restaurant. It was as a dishwasher first, then a food runner, but eventually he was able to dabble in the kitchen and was discovered for the talent that he was. So he saved up money, planned and plotted, applied for scholarship after scholarship, until he was accepted to Le Cordon Bleu Paris. Yes, there were campuses in the United States, but Monroe was looking for a fresh start after surviving high school, and a fresh start he got.
Prompted by his new beginning and a realization that high school was only vaguely like the real world, slowly but surely he blossomed at culinary school. He made friends, actually went out at nights, travelled around Europe on his breaks, and threw himself into his school work with enthusiasm. It was like a dream come true. By the time he was ready to graduate, he was begin courted by numerous fine-dining restaurants but none of them won out in the end. All it took was a simple phone call after graduation, the murmur of "Little Ellie" by a voice roughened by alcohol and smoke, to bring his dreams to a standstill.
He hung up on her the moment he realized who his caller was, but the next person to call, his mother, wasn't so easy to ignore. Karen had taken a downward spiral, falling into the seductive world of all things narcotics. Her debt was spiraling out of control, she wasn't paying up, and now the debt collectors were coming for Karen and Davis. Not only that, but Karen had a child now, a little girl named Marie who stayed with her father, and the debt collectors' threats were slowly but surely extending to them too. Monroe really had no choice; he packed his bags and returned to the hellhole that he'd vowed never to return to.
He picked up a job in an extremely nice restaurant and began immediately to pay off his sister's debt. It was supposed to be a temporary thing; he'd pay off Karen's debt, they'd lay off of his family, done and done. But things don't work out quite like that in real life. Karen had disappeared by now, but was still racking up debt like it was going out of style, and the dealers allowed her because now there was someone good for the money, a constant source of income in a business of deadbeats and struggling drug addicts. Monroe tried to convince them otherwise, but the debt collectors for the narcotics business were even more persuasive if Monroe's black eye and swollen lip were anything to go by.
Things got worse when one of the men that Karen owed money to got a bright idea; Monroe was the ideal person to help set up a cover business, a little restaurant to serve as a front for less delicious and more nefarious purposes. Monroe fought that too, fought that with all of his might, but an almost concussion has a way of persuading people. He got used to that too, got used to doing things he didn't want to, to surviving the world he didn't want to be a part of, just like high school. He had his executive chef job at the nice restaurant, quietly telling himself that he was building experience and a resume, and he ran the other little restaurant on the side, and it was fine. It wasn't fine, and it didn't take a gunshot to tell him that, but that did help. At the little restaurant, rival drug dealers decided that it was the ideal place for not only a revenge-fuelled robbery but a bit of a gunfight as well. The first victim was an innocent customer, an elderly regular who came in almost every day that Monroe was there. He was shot in the shoulder and Monroe, stupid, brave Monroe pulled him into the kitchen and was shot in the abdomen for his efforts, and the bullet went straight through him, embedding it in the wall behind him. His drug dealers(his. ha!) made short work of the intruders and got him to the hospital, but Monroe wasn't grateful. He was happy, however, that at least his customer was alright.
He got better and returned to work with only a scar and a slight pain on rainy days, and he kept paying off that debt. He had friends in New York now, good friends, reputable friends, but the shadow of his sister still followed him everywhere and his chances of actually leaving New York was shrinking by the day. He couldn't leave his parents, couldn't leave Marie and her father, by now good friends of his⊠Slowly and painfully, Monroe realized that he wasn't leaving New York City unless a miracle happened. That, or he'd be leaving in a body bag.