Richard sat slumped backed on the edge of his bed, a cigarette tucked between his fingers. The smoke exited his nose as he huffed, rising into the air. Some of the smoke gentle make its way out the open window on the other side of his bed, but he opted to keep the one above his headboard closed shut, the locks and chains and nailed in boards that keep that one window securely closed was just one weird thing about the teens room. The silver case under his bed and his top drawer to his dresser was sealed tighter than a nuns ass. And he liked to keep it that way. The sheets of his bed had cigarette burns, the black lined little burned holes made a regular appearance in some of the clothes he wore. From when he was talking up until now, it was quite, the gentle hum of his AC on his desk and his low, shallow breaths were calming. Wether you new Rowly or you didn't, he was a weirdo, a real job of a boy. His messy, curly, dirty blonde hair that reaches his top back, his hair arms and chest, those gorgeous eye lashes and olive green eyes. He was buff, but not in a body builder way, more as he was simply born with strength, and though he didn't have really defined muscles, his arms were big a meaty, firm. He has the slightest bit of pudge to his stomach, and his pecs were big enough to feed a newborn for months. His face was full of slight freckles, and his nose, something he was often made of for, was big and long, but round at the base. As you look over him, taking in his appearance (and made crushing), he lets out the worlds most overly forcefully and dramatic groan, his head falling back as he ran his thick fingers through his hair.

"Pass me the lighter"

Oh, did I mention his weed problem