ENS. ADRIEN de BONTECOU

[dee2]

ADRIEN de BONTECOU

BASICS
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FULL NAME: Adrien de Bontecou.
RACE: Human.
AGE: Twenty-seven.
GENDER: Male.
HEIGHT: 6’ 1”
WEIGHT: 164 lbs.
BIRTHPLACE: Earth : Bourges, France

EXPERIENCE
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STARFLEET GRADUATE: Yes.
STARFLEET RANK: Ensign.
MEDICAL RANK: --
STUDIES: Sociology / Exosociology, Linguistics / Exolinguistics & Interstellar Law.
DIVISION: Sciences / Operations.
JOB TITLE: Communications Officer.
OTHER: --

STRENGTHS:

WEAKNESSES:

PERSONAL
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APPEARANCE:
It’s a terrible thing when one thinks himself above all else. That he’s so handsome there a copy was made, just to be sure. But that’s Adrien, for you. Blessed with a tan complexion from summers spent on the beach, sun-bleached locks in dirty-blonde, cut just so as to gel up in a faux-hawk when the mood strikes and a sort of rugged, alluring smile accentuated with grey-blue eyes, he just can’t help himself.

The man is obviously sure of himself; the way the walks, like some model posing down a runway sauntering around for the world to see. It isn’t entirely self inflicted, however. He simply grew up that way.

Toned just enough to say he is, radiant with some healthy sort of glow and otherwise well-kept, he makes sure that he is always “shoot-ready”. As he’s terribly self-conscious and always wishes to look his best in any situation.

PERSONALITY:
[outside] “Party foul; you picked that shot right-handed. Here, let me show you how it’s done..”

Preferring to revel in the nighttime scene then slave away in some lab, Adrien is quite the party animal. However, he loves Space just as much. Whether that be due to his love of the thrill or the general other-world feeling of the whole experience, even he isn’t sure. Born from the rich, given the riches, Adrien has little sense of responsibility outside the ones he’s inherited from Starfleet. Of course, years of sticking it out through the Academy wore a bit of his raving soul down, there’s still no stopping him.

[inside] Remember that saying about being nice to nerds, because they’ll be your boss one day? Adrien was expected to be the boss of that boss’s boss. Tossed from prestigious homes of education to the next, he had a taste of all types of education. All priced in the millions, of course. But little Adrien had a brain to catch a scholarship easy as pie, even if Mommy and Daddy didn’t need one to fund school in the first place. First born and boasting the equivalent of a Four Point O. all his life, he learned at a young age that a brain was to be taught and used to the point of greatness. He had no dreams of such a thing; they were simply a step in life. And he’s kept that same outlook throughout all his partying. No booze or drugs would stop him from becoming great. So he did and is, in his eyes. The man’s a narcissist. Echo is a step behind at all times, but he just isn’t catching enough attention to be bolted into a flower. It’s unfortunate, what images can do.

[linguist] – Shared between twins, Adrien posses an inert ability to soak up any sort of language he has come in contact during his life. Having lived in Marseille, France for most of his childhood and teen life, he has picked up English as a second language to his first, being French. During his schooling, he studied not only English, as required, but Spanish, Greek, Italian, Chinese, Korean and Japanese. Knowing these to the point of fluidity, other tongues, as well as the more alien sort, have been sucked into his memory along with them, thus earning him a vague idea of commonly spoken languages as well as a taste of the not so well known.

[smooth-talker] – With the accent of the ‘Language of Love’ behind his lips and the cocky smirk of any lady-killer, Adrien takes great pride in his ability to talk his way in and out of nearly anything. Whether that be into the local club, obviously drunk off his ass, without question from the big guy blocking the door or into the very thoughts of a troubled, or not so much, mind. If he wants to know, and you know it, best lock it up and throw away the key~

HISTORY:
It all happened with a couple of crazy young kids..

Well, not really. More of two people bumping into each other on the Metro, but I like to spice things up a little. Those two people happened to be Andrea L’Oufe and Horrace Shaushtenvarg. Miss L’Oufe was a lovely Frenchwoman working in downtown Paris in a little Hat Boutique. She loved hats, you see. But they were a bit out of fashion in her days, to her discontent. Older men wore the bowler hats and tail-suits like a proper man should, but they were few and far between. Until, that is, she set her eyes upon a rather dapper man hidden behind the morning’s paper on the bus to work one foggy March morning. Looking handsome in a pinstripe suit, chewing lazily on tobacco and peering out from beneath the brim of a sharp looking bowler hat was Horrace Shaushtenvarg, thief and bum extraordinaire. Poor little Andrea had no idea this man was a murderer, or that he was a hitch-hiker from Germany running from what he was. She only saw his grand hat, and his godly face. His electric blue eyes and dirty-brown hair. She never realized Shaustenvarg wasn’t himself at all, but Hein Varges, the very serial killer in that morning paper he was sweating over the day they met.
So they fell in love, madly in love. And lived happily ever-after.

Getting spicy yet?

Varges had a one night stand with little Miss L’Oufe, in all her pretty, petite frenchness, and left the day after with everything but the bowler hat she had commented so much on the morning before on the bus to work. Which she missed, of course, and was fired from the Hat Boutique in downtown France without a moment to think of what she had just gotten herself into. Good the local diner was hiring.

Six months of schlepping at ‘Madam Legros’’ on East Charlemange, Andrea was blessed with not one bouncing, bundle of joy. But two. Fraternal twins, little copies of Shausht—Varges’ beautiful face.

Before she knew it, she was swept off her feet be the twenty years older Gabriel de Bontecou, a devote Catholic living the sweet life in downtown Paris. You see, he had just bought out her old workplace, the Hat Boutique, and planned on building an art gallery where it once was. Nothing was to be torn down or displaced, only refinished and clad in pieces of his artistic wonderland.

Baby Adrien and Adrienné were only months old when they were carried off to Marseille with their new Papa and dearest Maman. Monsieur Bontecou showered them with gifts and toys. New clothes and the sweetest of maids to give Mommy and Daddy time together. Much to his dismay, the now married Bontecou’s were never to have any children other than the charming twins of her mistake. It was a month and a half after the knot was tied and they were on vacation in Italy did the headshot of Varges and his little snippet in the paper signing his death show up in the side bulletin.

Andrea prayed for him, none the less.

Growing taller and more defined by the day, the Bontecou twins became the inspiration for their parents. How inseparable they were. How they seemed to speak so well to each other, though they never spoke a word. How, hand in hand, they would stroll the parks and beaches a museums. How they became the talk of the town. Genius.

They breezed through school, nothing more or less than that. Adrien was the DaVinci and Adrienné the Michelangelo. They despised each other’s talent, but loved each other all the same. The Bontecou double were a sure-fire choice for Starfleet given their skills and curiosity towards Space, which they accepted after a few years in college.

Adrien became the talker of the two, Adrienné the thinker. Left-handed devil things they were, they fit into the party scene while coexisting in Starfleet, loving the secrets they budged their way into.

Which took them to the Academy and beyond. Much to their parent’s dismay. But oh, t’is the life of the famous? Partially. To themselves, anyway.

But it wasn’t enough for them to be recognized as the ‘Bontecou twins’. They wanted more. Which is why when the talk of ‘The Enterprise’ started buzzing around they jumped right in. Accepted into the ranks without a second thought, they settled right in, anxiously awaiting their first mission on the ship. They’re in it for the adrenaline rush, the fame and the experiences.

Are you ready for your close-up, starshine?
Can’t talk your way out of this one, cupcake.

OUT OF CHARACTER
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NAME/ALIAS: Dee.
HOW LONG YOU HAVE BEEN RPING: Too long.
WHERE DID YOU FIND US: T’Lae told me about it.. goodstuff.
DID YOU READ THE RULES: I’m a pilgrim from lands beyond, of course I did~
RP SAMPLE:
“No way! Why would I ever even think about /talking/ to a guy like that? Let alone ask him on a date. You’re crazy, Anna. Absolutely crazy!”

“Did you see the way she looked at me? I think she wants to talk. To me, Andrew Hatters. Out of all the people in this bar!”

“He looks like a lost puppy, staring at you with those googly eyes. Come on. Go talk to him! What’ll it hurt?”

“Dude, you’re out of it. That wasn’t ‘I want to talk’. That was ‘Who’s the weirdo staring at me?’. Man, you need to sort out your girl signals.”

It wasn’t always pleasant being able to hear superior to most. Neither was it pleasant when said hearing only lead one to confusion. This was the case for T’Lae who, until only moments ago, was casually sipping on ice water at a table just far enough from the crowd of bar goers. The scene wasn’t her usual place; the mass of bodies cultivating relations amongst one another and generally being young adults, filled with hormones and alcohol. It was enough to drive the most tolerant of humans out the door, let alone a fairly intolerant Vulcan. There she sat, none the less, curiously examining the two groups peculiarly quiet compared to the rest.

Their conversations were near silent; both in pairs of the same gender, speaking on the other’s presence. The question remained why they were speaking to each other in such a volume. Given the music’s rapturous beats to the general lulling din of the crowd, it was a wonder how they were able to make out the voice that answered them. But they did, leaning close across the small tables which they were seated at and otherwise unaware that they were speaking of each other. Soon enough, the more disinterested female of the two stood from her table and made her way towards her male onlooker, striking up a conversation about the choice of music and how it pertained to their meeting. Or something along those lines, as about that same time an obviously drunken young man put a sloppy hand on T’Lae’s shoulder, slurring something about how pretty her hair was and how good she smelled.

Being a patient creature, she returned this gesture with the slightest of grins, hoping the lack of smile she painted didn’t hint to far as to what she was. Even then, she didn’t think this man could understand that she was Vulcan. An obviously disinterested Vulcan at that. Shrugging down her shoulder and moving somewhat off in the other direction from him, she attempted to dislodge his hand from her. He didn’t budge, only sloshed around his drink and chuckled darkly in her direction. Without warning he closed the space between them, now breathing acrid breath on her cheek. She tensed, facing forward to give him no leeway and stood. However, her motion upward caused him to grow angry and he shoved her back down in her seat.

This was going nowhere fast. ‘No uniform.' She realized quickly her status would mean nothing to him, and wearing no badges of rank herself, she doubted it would’ve helped. So she fell back on her next strongest option, pushing her hair on the side closest to him behind her tapered ears, giving him the coldest look she could have possibly mustered given the awkward situation. He immediately slackened his grip, moving back half a step. But he was dumb, choosing hormones above all else and offered a sleazy grin.

“I’ve never banged a Vulcan before, sweet-cheeks.”

It seemed the entire bar grew quiet at that moment. A few uniformed Cadets exchanged slack-jaw looks to one another, those in hearing distance from the Vulcan and her assailant now silent, stopping mid conversation to stare at the two. In her most authoritative voice she presented a warning.

“And I have never had the pleasure of removing an intoxicated man from my presence after I’ve shown obvious disinterest. Your advances upon me are illogical, to say the least. If you would remove your hand, sir, I would look back on this meeting as nothing but a mistake. I would think this fair, given your state and mine. Agreed?”

The man grew tired by the second word, though she kept on him, just in case. He grumbled a bit and moved off without giving a verbal answer, leaving T’Lae with a half-dozen onlookers gazing at her through the corners of their eyes. Wrapping her fingers back around her glass of water, she stared off past them, lifting the drink to her lips and wetting them as though to dim the curiosity around her. Those left staring grew tired of her, thinking there was nothing left to see, and returned to what they had been doing before, while she focused on calming the jitters that were left by the encounter.

[DR. LEONARD McCOY]

ACCEPTED

Well done! Don't forget to go to the claims and get up a subplots to get your roleplaying started. Hope you have fun!

PS I changed communications assistant to communications officer because there isn't such a thing as an assistant. ^^