: Lieutenant of the Exodus
: Just over five foot, nine inches, the young lieutenant is an athletic individual with a strong posture and wide shoulders. He has dazzling blue eyes, a scruffy look most of the time and faint scars over a good portion of his chest, back and arms. After years of bare-knuckle boxing, he's broken his fair share of bones in his hands and nose, so a few things might seem slightly un-proportionate. His clothing aboard the Exodus is that of a proper gentleman, which he isn't quite accustomed to, while anything off the ship is usually a tattered duster and army boots.
When he's out and about adventuring.
Young, cocky and joking almost as much as his Captain, Leslie uses humor more as a defense mechanism than anything else. He's not terribly intelligent and can't do much more than read; math is entirely out of the question. Even though he grew up on the streets, his morals and ideals are extremely important. Although not outright Catholic like his parents, Leslie has a strong faith and finds himself holding his rosary in prayer when under too much stress. He's a steadfast friend and always willing to work even harder for the good of the group.
Born to Irish immigrants who came to America after the first World War, he grew up on the slum streets of New York and lost his accent within years- gaining a few bad habits along the way. He joined a small street gang in his teen years and spent his time training to be the best pick-pocket in town. When a rival boy from the neighborhood beat him senseless one afternoon, it was then that young Leslie chose to travel the country in search of a place to be.
In New Orleans at sixteen, he worked as a bare knuckle boxer and between lengthy healing periods, made a living knocking other boys his size (and sometimes a great deal larger) out cold. The road brought him to Texas, where he came across the Belaford oil tycoon and gained a job as a rig welder. Even as a young boy, he knew from the moment that he saw Alice Belaford visit the dig site one afternoon, she was the one he was going to marry. Covered in grease, he approached the teenage madame and in a desperate attempt at asking her out to a soda that afternoon, he was promptly humiliated in front of the entire crew. It was at that moment, he decided to leave Texas and find some new adventure. Partly to work on his wounded pride and partly to build enough status to woo the girl.
Lying about his age, he joined the army far ahead of his prime and began training as an assistant in the air field. Over time he grew in rank and eventually became a pilot. Initially it was simply drop missions or taxiing generals over the ocean, but eventually he was promoted to fighter pilot and went into the second Great War in the midst of a great deal of violence. After a year of missions, his plane was shot at and a single bullet managed to strike Leslie in the leg. He was awarded a medal and released from the armed forces due to injury and the amount of time it took for recovery. Although his knee sometimes aches with the weather or when overused, he can jog perfectly fine.
Upon his return to the good ol' USA, Leslie, as a decorated war veteran, traveled the east coast temporarily. In Virginia, he met a large Great Dane on the side of the road without an owner or mother. Naming it Duke, the pair traveled together like the best of friends. They arrived in Texas and Leslie gained a job with the oil tycoon who didn't remember him in the slightest from the scrappy boy years earlier. With his history in the air force, he was given the position of lieutenant. Without much know-how but more than enough heart, he's ready to take on the world in search of these.... uh... Voyve-yan Mannerscripts.
Other than the standard-issued revolver for his position (which he doesn't even acknowledge in a real scrap) Duke, his lovable best friend. And his mother's rosary.