GREGORY is UP, UP & AWAY!
Name: Kassy
Age: Eighteen
Timezone: EST
Availability (on a scale of 1-10): 8
Do you intend on following the rules?: yes.
Are there any changes you would like to make?:
Name: Gregory
Age: Nineteen
Location: South Park, Colorado
Occupation: Works in jewelry store at the mall, drug dealer
Sexuality: Bi-curious
Love Interests:
Friends: Christophe, Craig
Enemies: Stan, Wendy, Kyle, Cartman
After the completion of Kenny saving the world, Gregory's parents felt as though South Park was a poor place to bring up a child, so they moved to Denver.
He remained there until he was fifteen. The Brams came back to South Park for him to complete his secondary schooling.
Gregory does not have many friends, nor does he get along with many people. If you catch him around anyone, it'd be Christophe, and even that is merely out of convenience.
He has passed through the early application process with a green-light to attend Harvard University.
For work, he spends a good deal of time in the jewelry store his parents own. That, accompanied to the drug business on the side, is how he became somewhat friends with Craig Tucker.
Gregory dislikes Wendy Testaburger and Kyle Broflovski because they are his constant competition for the number spot in class rankings.
He disliked Stan Marsh simply because he believes him to be a pussy, and Eric Cartman for his loud, vile mouth.
Paragraph sample: Gregory fiddled with the pen in his hand. He twirled it between his fingers, eyes moving to trace the invisible lines of motion. A foreign movie played in the background, its language escaping him. The voices fought for his attention and become quite violent at some points. The young man had set out to write an essay, as it had been assigned the previous day in class. His nature didn't permit him to put it off for too long – and yet here he was: a blank piece of paper before him, a closed laptop and a pen with no ink. How was he supposed to get any work done?
He stood slowly, paying a half-assed glance towards the television. Blue eyes narrowed as he watched the actors move to no sound. The remote was promptly snatched to reveal that the program had been playing on mute the entire time. Any normal human being would have been startled at this point, but he chalked it down to his lack of sleep ( or karma ) and left the bedroom in a huff.
The watch on his wrist mocked him by reading 12:45 A.M. This was going to put a dent on his morning routine, that was for sure. The entire house was silent by this point; his parents were sleeping, no doubt. They had important jobs they needed to tend to in the early morning. The two had no time to play heady games with themselves.
His slender frame moved into the kitchen where he searched for food inside the refrigerator that he knew would give him no satisfaction. It looked like a proper grocer, that was for sure. There were so many greens and vibrant colors coming for the plethora of fruits and vegetables. “Only the bests for the Brams,” his mother seemed to coo every time she went to the supermarket. What rubbish that was!
Before the indignant sigh that had been building up had time to escape, the phone in his pocket began to vibrate. The only people who called at this time were people that he dealt to, and Christophe. Neither of those possibilities lightened his mood. If it was the first, then he would surely give out tampered goods. They knew better to bother him when he was in one of those moods, and now he would get sick enjoyment from knowing whatever problem they had was about to get a great deal worse. Oh, but how were they supposed to know that the blond was not in right state of mind? They should have felt it, of course! And if it was the latter – well, that was a headache he just wasn't interested in.
And while he was stern in his thinking, he brought the phone to his ear and answered as politely as ever. His face had been blank for the better part of the entire evening, but the female voice on the other line caused him to cock his brow. Light colored lips hung open as he tried to place the person on the other line ( or at least pretend like he hadn't the faintest idea.
“Gregory?” she had said his name at least three times by this point.
“Oh, I'm sorry. Forgive me. I must have spaced out.” He laughed dryly. “I didn't catch your name, who am I speaking to?” Yes, act like you don't know, like the annoying octaves that she spoke in didn't make your skin crawl in disgust.
“It's Wendy,” the girl had spoken nonchalantly.
Once again he found himself glaring at no particular object in any random direction. What the stringy-haired girl wanted, he was unsure of, but what he did know was that he didn't give a fuck. “Oh, Wendy, right, sorry. You've caught me on an off moment, you'll have to call back when I have an extra minute to spare. As it would turn out, some of us like to burn the midnight oil by expanding our knowledge, as opposed to flipping through whatever girls' magazine you have sprawled out in front of you. So enjoy your evening, or morning as it would have you, and leave me be to my work.” And with that, he hung up.
There was always an odd satisfaction that came from treating people poorly. It came from knowing you were superior, that everyone was below you. And while the essay remained incomplete, he felt as though he had earned the rest. Someone had needed his assistance and he had denied them, there was no act more amusing. Chuckling to himself in the cold kitchen, he grabbed onto one of the ripe bananas on the counter. He would chew that triumphantly before heading towards the stairs to reward himself with sleep.