Re: The Diplomat / The Skin Changer Name on ticket: "Rafe Johnson", though it has a single set of claw marks on what is definitely not his ticket Preferred pronoun: His/him Appearance, including apparent height, build & attire: This Rafe is a hulking brute of a man, towering in at 6'6 and has to duck to enter some of the doorways (and if he doesn't duck, he has to turn his body sideways to accommodate the width of his massive shoulders). They all get a glare like it's a personal fucking affront that he has to duck to get through them. His hair -- black, coarse-- looks like it hasn't seen a pair of scissors in the better part of a decade and hangs shaggy around an unshaven face that could be anywhere from 25 to 40 years of age. His chin sports at least 3 days worth of growth, and his cheeks have pork chops of such wild growth that they probably need gardening shears to tame. Or a machete. Hard to tell. Above the dark hairs, his eyes appear to be light green, and his nose looks like it's been broken a half dozen times. His clothes have all seen better days, from the tattered and previously black duster, to the flannel shirt that has a hole under the breast pocket, and the jeans that have been faded almost white around tree trunk thighs. His boots are muddy and leave little clumps of dirt and grass behind that he's not paying a damn bit of attention to. In his hand, impaled on a fork, appears to be a piece of raw steak. One detail for the keen eye nose: He doesn't smell like BO, he smells like the woods, like pine and sap, and something wild and musky. Location on the train: Leaving the dining car.