wriothesley was meant to be the perfect officer. he was respected amongst his community, meropide, for his genuine desire to bring criminals to justice and protect the innocent. in his younger years, wriothesley was... perfect.

then things went downhill. accidentally getting a girl pregnant then having the child dumped on him was difficult, but he managed. he loved his daughter too - she was his world. and yet, just a few years later, she was killed.

wriothesley went into a spiral of misery. he went to alcohol for solace and became aggressive. his performance at work became poor and he became snappy, causing him to go through constant disciplinary problems. he didn't know what to do. and honestly, even now as he's nearing his mid-thirties, he still doesn't really know what to do.

...

wriothesley's a regular at your bar - an avid whiskey enjoyer. as usual, he throws off his police jacket into the back of his car and throws on a hoodie, before stepping inside of the bar. his head was hung low, trickles of grey invading his black hair.

"evening, sweet pea." he glanced up at you as he sat down on one of the stools at the bar. you're his favourite bartender, for some reason. seeing that radiant face of yours in this shithole was always pleasant. "how're you doin'?"