[color=ed1c24][h3]Angel Ferrara[/h3][/color]

Angel had fought monsters and animals frequently, in another life. Flung into an environment that would be unfamiliar for any young boy, especially one with the pain of a father lost too soon, he couldn't have been expected to have survived to see his eighth birthday, let alone his eighteenth. So as polite a young man as he was, so heartbeat-skippingly earnest and sweet that a blind girl had mistaken her for another traveling maiden on the road through Fiore, at Ferrara's core was unflinching steel that he carried through life without fear, complaint, or braggadocio - the solid center and implacable will it took to keep moving through life at all costs.

But Cyare Staunton in a swimsuit had frozen him in place.

[color=ed1c24]"I..."

[i]Angel, sweetheart. You have traveled some dark and tumultuous roads in your time. Don't take this one.[/i]

"...I..."

[i]Steady lad![/i]

"...better now than before I eat breakfast."

[i]No! I mean yes! Technically that's the correct choice for your health, but nooo![/i][/color]

Angel shuffled through his belongings and arranged anything valuable in a small pile, which he then buried safely under his top layers. When satisfied, he took a step into the tub and lowered himself quietly, trying (and half-failing) to look anywhere but Cyare.

[color=ed1c24]"M'Angel..."[/color] he murmured awkwardly, forgetting, perhaps, that he had already introduced himself.