[center][b]"God help the outcasts."[/b]
[IMG]http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd156/Yumiko_Gaara/UchihaSasukefull628710_zps20d519d2.jpg[/IMG][/center]
[b]Name:[/b] Angel Ramirez
[b]Alias:[/b] Canary
[b]Age: [/b] Eighteen
[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Sexuality:[/b] He's not too sure.
[b]Race:[/b] Filipino/Portuguese
[b]Position:[/b] Prostitute

[b]Personality:[/b] Angel can't speak. He wasn't born mute, so he could speak if he wanted to, but there's something in his head that keeps him shut up. This puts off clients at first, but when they learn he can still grunt and groan, they end up appreciating it. He's very thankful over anything, and prays every time he goes to bed. THe boy always has a sense of gratefulness over anyone that does him a small favour, thinking it proper that he repay them somehow. Although it would seem so, Angel isn't dependent on everything. For instance, lately, he's been allowed to choose his customers instead of being shoved into a room. Well, he still ends up going with whoever waves money in front of him, but the point is, he's had the option and makes a decision to say- or nod- yes instead of having someone else do it. He defends things smaller than him with a feiry passion, and considering his five foot even and eighty something pounds, anything smaller than him probably isn't worth protecting. He tries his best anyways.
Angel's also got a thing for visiting church whenever he can.

[b]History:[/b] As far as histories go, Angel's is pretty average. Well, for anyone living where he's living, anyways. God knows where his father went, and to supply for both her son and her drug addiction (moreso the latter than anything), his mother sold herself off in the streets- she was a pureblood filipino that had features less of a hispanic and more of an asian. Her whole 'exotic' spiel really sold. And perhaps that's where the problems lied. 

Most of the time, Angel's mother was at the whore house showering before she left somewhere else, and most of the time, Angel was there too. There was where he learned that women sometimes had knives between their thighs. There was where he learned that some women had similar scars over their stomachs. But it was also there where he learned to laugh, despite not being fed for three days. His mother was the one that taught him how to do her hair up properly before she left for work, and the other women had him running them errands- "grab that needle for me, Angel", "get me water, birdy", "run this over to the church, babe". From helping clear the doorway of an unconcious- or dead- skeleton of a woman to sneaking some of Heather's pills for Candy who needed a quick fix, Angel was their little errand boy. He sometimes even ran drugs to the nearby priest at church.

And there was where his problems greatened. He sang for the church sometimes, see- that's why he's called the little Canary- and he often spent a lot of time with the Father. He was the one that taught Angel about angels and God and while the little boy really didn't believe that shit considering his situation and the fact that the priest snorted crap, the Father was his only male influence. He spent a lot of time after masses with the priest, and back then he could talk, talk like anything. He'd talk about the angels and he'd talk about his day and he'd talk about his mother and he'd talk about his hunger.

Then one day the incident happened. And it happened again, and again, and again. And the Father explained this was what Angel was meant to do, and then on Easter Sunday, Angel's voice disappeared. They were caught, Angel had stayed out too late, a kind hearted hooker went to look for him and found him. "Oh my god, oh my god," was all she repeated as she freaked out, knocking the priest out. There was a loud noise and Angel wasn't sure what she had used, but soon he found himself swaddled up in her arms as she cried out God's name in vain, hobbling on her stilletos back to the house.

His mother was thrilled. His mother's boss was thrilled. Angel wasn't sure where the woman who picked him up went, but he knew she'd told both his mom and her boss about what'd happened. And his mom was more than excited to sell off her son if that meant she'd get more money, and her boss was thrilled because there were always customers for young meat like Angel. 

At first, Angel fought back. But you know, he was still pretty small and young compared to the others, and when he realized nothing he could do would stop them, he eventually gave up. His mother died a couple years into it, and Angel kept being put to work. He met a woman at the steps of the church doors, and she told him he'd take him in. Not really sure what else to do, he accepted her offer. 

Turns out, he just moved to a different, smaller group of hookers. He didn't work at first, eating whatever food they offered, stuffing his face with anything and everything. He vomited nonstop the first two times- his small body wasn't used to that much food all at once. A month later, the girl asked him how old he was. A week after that, after Angel heard her and another girl- the two were girlfriends maybe- argue a bit, Angel was put back on the market. He doesn't work on a certain side of town, though, afraid of whatever would happen if he came across old "friends".

[b]Other:[/b] He's got several bruises and cuts pretty much all the time, but his most notable marking on his body is the burn like scar on his right hip.
Angel also smells really nice.