Flint

    It wouldn't be too off to call Flint an 'odd bird'. A man of few words and a steady gaze, his stonefaced cowboy squint gives him a bit of an allure. He roams the galaxy in search of lost ships, a black-clad figure landing on distant planets to unearth their mysteries. If his life were a movie, it'd probably be a sci-fi western classic.
    Well, that's the surface interpretation, anyway; the reality is far less romantic. Flint likes his scrapper job for the solitude, getting covered in substances unknown and stain-prone as he picks apart the carcasses of lost vessels. It's repetitive, straightforward, and most importantly doesn't require him to struggle through social situations that he finds harder and harder to navigate. It's the crest drifting over his head that he'd argue makes him like this, a thin turquoise band that constantly bubbles away its strength, sapping him of his energy and leaving him perpetually exhausted. With the condition fluctuating between tolerably difficult and downright soul-sucking, it's no wonder Flint has trouble keeping up with the average day-to-day life ....

    Flint started life as the eldest son of a lower middle class family. Things were fairly normal for him; he was bright, with a sharp wit and an eye for the technical, pulling apart little devices whenever he managed to sneak them away from his parents. He did well enough in school, if a bit of a daydreamer, and he seemed destined to take his place in their little bayou community.
    It was when he was about halfway through his teens that Flint started to undergo a new change. At first it was just a little weariness on occasion, finding himself quicker to tire even on days he was rested. His mother noticed a few little flecks of teal coming off of his crisp half-halo crest but, hopeful, said nothing. Within the year that perfect crescent would begin to wobble, just little shifts at first, but eventually collapsing into a strange, meandering line that just wouldn't stop bubbling. Those chunks of crest took Flint's energy with them, and he began to fade from the sharp, quick-witted person he was to someone much more reserved, some days forgetting his siblings' names and others struggling to even keep his sentences straight.
    His family struggled. It was difficult to watch him decline, and his parents found themselves with the beginnings of grief for a son that hadn't even died. He was different, very different, but he was still himself--a point he would try to argue when they started to hold him back from opportunities, pushing his siblings to take the lead instead. Deeply hurt, Flint retreated to his tinkering, taking on an apprenticeship in secret with a local mechanic and waiting for his eighteenth birthday with a simmering resentment. When that day finally came he packed his things and just--left. He'd picked up a job on a scrapper's ship and was more than ready to call his hometown a lost cause and move on.
    Flint's time on the scrapper ship was unremarkable. He quit after about a year when he was offered a mechanic job at a busy outpost, but after a few years he found the customer service aspect of the work trying. Bouncing between a few more jobs, he eventually saved up enough for his own vessel, bought for cheap from a retiring team and repaired and upgraded by his own handiwork. He's been living on that ship ever since, braving the untamed parts of space to recover valuable tech from crashed or abandoned ships, and offering field repairs for cash in between hauls. That resentment for his family hasn't left him, but it's quieter now, sunken into the bottom of his chest and left there to hide. He still regards them as irresponsible and a disappointment, but hey, he's starting to learn that those who don't live up to flock standards can be replaced with those who do, right?

    Flint is reserved, preferring to keep to himself rather than embarrass himself with his poor memory or hindered focus. He's thoughtful, taking his time to mull things over but coming to the best conclusion he can; rushing in has rarely served him well, and he much prefers to have a plan. Of course all of this squinting into the distance can give him an aloof air, but that's pretty inaccurate.
    He still struggles with having a disintegrating crest, but has more or less stabilized, with any worsening symptoms being very gradual. He has to write down anything he really wants to remember, and it takes him several meetings to recall names and faces. On a bad day he'll struggle with even things he normally remembers well, and may be unwilling to speak at all; but these are balanced with good days, where he would almost consider himself 'normal', if still more slow-moving than he once was. He holds no fondness for his condition, but he has come to more or less accept it, since there isn't really anything to be done about it.
    When he does make a proper friend, Flint is loyal, often thinking of them when he spots something that reminds him. He'll collect the nicest of these reminders to give as gifts. His loyalty can also manifest as doggedness, however; he has to be told outright if he's not wanted, since otherwise he will catch up with someone he considers a friend fairly regularly, and he will find you to catch up with.

• While Flint's work entails mostly working with large scrap, he still likes toying with the smaller bits and bobs in his spare time. Music boxes, dancing trinkets, walking animals, and abstract baubles all come to life as he kills time in his pilot chair, fiddling with the parts in a stream-of-consciousness sort of way. Sometimes they get sold.
• Recently Flint has taken an interest in antiques. This is less of his own fascination and more of keeping an eye out for stock for his friend Alto, but nonetheless, he's willing to trade for them if they seem viable.
• Flint eats like a horse. He often doesn't realize he's hungry until he's starving, and then wolfs down anything and everything he can get his hands on.
• His aspects are Stone and Bone, which he doesn't get too much use out of. Mostly those come into play when defending himself from whatever heinous creatures inhabit the planet he's currently excavating on; Bone in particular can make these encounters particularly nasty ....
• Flint wears pretty much exclusively black. Mostly this is to avoid having to toss stained clothes, and to skip out on having to think about matching and coordinating what he's wearing.
• His facial scar comes from getting in a fight as a teenager. It was one of the first times he really got into trouble; it wouldn't be the last as he began to act out when feeling particularly rejected, but he's settled down more these days.
• He's fairly susceptible to the beliefs of those he considers good friends. This makes it easy to talk him into things, or convince him of some outlandish idea.