Jesse Foxx

Foxx is a happy-go-lucky guy without the “happy” - the kind of guy to throw caution to the wind without a care for what happens to himself or others. He is very excitable and rather sensitive, making him seem to those who don’t know him dramatic and aggressive. On the contrary, he’s rather laid-back, just very talkative and eager to be heard. He doesn’t hold onto things, whether it’s grudges or favors, and is very quick to let things go.

Though sensitive to things regarding himself, Foxx is oddly detached from his surroundings. It is unlikely he will recognize the plights of others or the impact of his own actions, expecting that they feel the same as he does. As such, he’s often unintentionally rude or overly blunt, and people who are unfamiliar with him typically believe him to be A Bastard. Given the type of people he’s around, this can and frequently has put him in precarious situations.

TL;DR Foxx is just a funny little guy who is perhaps too excited and too oblivious to the things around him, and definitely runs his mouth enough to run him into trouble.

✦ Appearance

Foxx has blond hair that he keeps at shoulder length and frequently ties back. He has two piercings on each ear and a rather chaotic tattoo on his left shoulder. He is of average height, standing at about 5'10 when upright, but he has an absolutely horrid hunch that brings him down a few inches. His arms are rather muscular, presumably from waving drumsticks around a little too much, but the rest of him is quite lanky.

Jesse Foxx was the kind of kid whom everybody liked, though maybe not for the right reasons. He had a certain charisma that overpowered his other, more questionable qualities. Teachers, students, and parents all liked him - he was outgoing, courageous, and friendly. Or so it appeared.

Often, Foxx was told by his superiors that if he would just put in a little effort, maybe he’d do better. Of course, he knew that. He didn’t listen, though. He saw school as boring, pointless: eventually, his charismatic cheeriness turned into a method of avoidance - he would lounge in the back of the classroom, talking to those who would listen to him and those who wouldn’t. By high school, he was skipping more classes than he was attending.

The reason Foxx was able to get away with this was simple: his parents didn’t care what he did. He lived with his father, a deadbeat drunkard who received all of his living money from his all-too-sympathetic ex-wife, Jesse’s mother. She was a renowned college professor doing her best to move on from her past, though still tied to it. She sent a portion of her wages to Foxx, his brother, and his father every month in order to ensure their health and safety, despite leaving them on a poor note. Foxx, though he would never admit it outright, misses her dearly, but neither she nor her ex-husband took it upon themselves to put Foxx on the right track.

As a result, Foxx was asked to repeat both his junior and senior years of high school. Needless to say, he skipped just as much in these new years as he had before. He would bum around with friends in nearby alleyways, subway tunnels, and the like, drinking booze he snuck out of his own home. Some nights, when his father’s drinking was especially bad, he’d go to the alley behind an underground music venue and listen to the bands play through the walls. Though it was muffled, he could still make out the beat - the drums - and that’s what he liked most of all. The drums are the foundation of a tune, but are independent of it all the same.

Foxx found a comfort in the intensity of the drums - he realized it as a way to harmlessly relieve the stress of a life with no structure, no continuity, no foundation. He began to play on trash cans and buckets in the alleyway to the rhythm he could feel through the walls. He didn’t know if he was good or not, and hell if he cared. He just enjoyed it, maybe too much. Inevitably, as he got more confident, more powerful on the makeshift drums, those inside the venue began to hear his playing. Rumors spread of the Rabid Drummer, playing on trash cans in the alleyway like a raccoon in heat.

A lot of people tried to scout him, actually. He denied every one, fearing the public eye, the ties of a company, of contracts, of labels. He continued to turn them down until an old friend of his with a piercing voice heard him in the alleyway and extended a hand.