It had been a fairly good night--he'd sent a few gaggles of teenagers screaming out of the house of horrors, and their fear and screams had put him in a slightly good mood. Of course, a good mood for him meant the very slightest chance one might see a ghost of a smile on his lips for a few split seconds, and there was of course, always a chance something could come along and spoil it, as he tended to fly off the handle rather easily. He gave a rough sigh as he slammed the doors to the haunted house shut, they making a large 'clanging' sound, he sliding the key into its hole to lock the fucking place. "Insert into hole and twist. Let the fun begin." He murmured in his deep, gruff voice, the words no more then a whisper, but they caused a slightly lewd, ghastly looking smirk to shift over his dark lips for a moment as he shook his head. So he was a bit of a perv, so fucking what?
He turned at this point, quite unaware that anyone was approaching, so he moved to one of his little 'hidey holes' and fished out the bottle of Jack Daniels, it about half full. "Ah, Jacky, one of my good friends." He murmured, uncapping the bottle and taking a good few draughts from the bottle, sighing in satisfaction as it made a trail of fire go down his throat.
The tall mutant stood about 6'3, almost reaching 6'4. His build was on the slender, lanky side, and his dirty looking black hair hung down past his shoulders a ways, hanging in every which direction, looking quite unkempt. Mismatched eyes, one a deep dark color, and one silver flashed in the darkness. Thin lips were made to look thicker with a coat of lipstick that matched his hair and eyeshadow and liner of the same color, applied in such a way that it made his eyes look sunken. Ghastly indeed.
He wore a pair of black slacks and lo and behold, suspenders as well, but no shirt under them, so one could see his skinny chest (where ribs were quite obvious), it also appearing as if he had several scars spanning over his chest, some small, some rather large. The clips that held the suspenders to the pants looked as though they were silver and in the shape of skulls. A pair of heavy black combat boots were on his feet with neon green laces. On his hands was a pair of fingerless black mesh gloves, the fingernails appearing to be painted black. He gave a groan and leaned his form up against the wall of the haunted house, so lost in his little drink and the slight buzz he was beginning to get from it he failed to notice the approach of anyone, since most tended to stay away from this vicinity, especially at this time of night. He tended not to be the most gracious of hosts.