(oliver jackson-cohen, cis-male, he/him) Someone said they saw FRANSISCO "FRANCIS" SANTORO around Rift Valley the night of Miles Logan’s murder. People are wondering if they had something to do with it. The 35 year old claims to be DRINKING AT A BAR at the time of the murder. They are said to be CHARISMATIC, which can play to their innocence until you consider they are also MANIPULATIVE. But who knows if they are telling the truth? Rumor has it, they ARE a witness in the investigation. Regardless, the MAFIOSO who happens to be the WEAPONS SPECIALIST is a suspect, but so is everyone else.
info .
name: fransisco lorenzo santoro nickname(s): francis date of birth: october 29th, 1991 age: thirty-five place of birth: rift valley, california
gender: cis-male pronouns: he/him sexuality: pansexual
occupation: quality assurance engineer ( weapons specialist ) education: ucla affiliation: santoro mafia
aesthetics: a cigarette tucked behind an ear, constantly moving fingers, the scent of sandalwood and smoke lingering on suit jackets, crooked smiles and jokes during the wrong moments soundtrack: dashboard by noah kahan positive traits: witty, quick on his feet, charming, unflinchingly loyal, methodical negative traits: obsessive, manipulative, restless, reckless, vengeful
height: 6'3 eye color: bright blue hair color: dark blonde notable features: scar on his left cheek
bio .
( tw: alcoholism, smoking, car accident, medical, guns )
you're the first born of a whole gaggle, though you don't yet know your luck when you draw your first breath.
you don't yet know that you will hold your future siblings with as much reverence as you hold a gun, fingers delicate as they wrap around cool metal and chubby little fingers alike. you're blissfully unaware that you will aim a shot with the same careful precision you use to throw your sibling a ball to catch. your life will be a constant parallel of violence and peace and you will walk it like a tightrope. only time will tell if you manage to keep your balance, or if you will fall on one side or the other. two sides of the same coin.
brilliant; that's what your parents are. and you are destined for the same. a quick study like your mother the lawyer, and just as quick witted, though it takes you more effort to focus on the things you don't care about. you're good with your words like your father the mob's underboss, a skilled negotiator with an eye for business that you look up to with admiration.
though, it is the moment you pick up a gun for the first time that your true talent shows. you're eight and your father is out of the room for enough time that you can make the discovery by yourself, seated at the mahogany dining table. the machinery fascinates you. weighty metal that slots into one another with a precision and purpose that you curiously pull apart. one click after another. there's nothing elegant about it that first time, nothing methodical, but your young eyes drink it all in hungrily. then you put it back together, just to pull it apart afterwards, and this time, you're more familiar with it. you can't name all the pieces but your fingertips come to know each ridge and edge, the shapes and gentle curves. you see what manufactured perfection can become and it occupies your mind from then on.
you get accepted into a university out of state for engineering and you jump at the chance to see a new place, young and eager as you are. a new place where you have no roots that run deeper under the earth than you even truly realize. six feet and more. at university, you feel free. untethered. you absorb yourself in your studies most times, and other times, you do what your newfound friends and others your age do: you party. you drink until you feel a pleasant numbness, until your laughter doesn't sound like your own and your lips tingle when you press them together. this is the first vice you burden yourself with. because once you start, you lose sight of the perfect moment to stop. you chase after the warmth with a greed that might have terrified you had you been sober and thinking clearly.
your wakeup call comes in a rain of broken glass and warped steel and aluminum. you weren't behind the wheel but under the influence you don't know when to stop, least of all tell someone else to slow down. a late night drive back to the dorms after a party ends in fire, blood running down the side of your face as you and another stumbling, injured friend pull the driver out behind the wheel and stagger away as the car bursts into flames. the shock sits in your bones numbly those few hours after the accident, but it grips on tighter as they patch you up in the hospital and feed an IV into your arm that sobers you up in a manner that's awfully humbling. had you passed out during the collision or from the alcohol, you and your friends might have died.
cynically, you wonder how much of a blessing it is when you later find out that the driver will never walk right again, and the friend who helped you pull him from the wreck will live with a pronounced, permanent tremble in one arm. you on the other hand, get to walk away with nothing but scratches and a light concussion and a scar on your cheek that will have you think of this night each moment you look at your reflection.
you resolve to stop drinking after that and you mostly succeed. tone it down, find ways to decline a drink that doesn't betray your deep, clawing fear that you will end up right back where you started. and yet, you trade one burdensome vice for another. cigarettes might make your chest sore the next day, they might make your fingers tremble when you abstain for too long, but they don't make you reckless. they don't take your good judgement and twist it into something that can't tell right from wrong and have you chase a thrill that will never be quite as good as you imagine.
when you return home after graduation, you come back the same, and yet entirely changed. the tightrope wobbles and shakes as you walk it, but you hold on one chain-smoke at a time. you slot into routine at home seamlessly. you didn't rush anymore. people who rushed ended up in headlines or coffins and you weren't itching for either. your degree earns you a position as a quality assurance engineer, and it's really just a fancy way of saying you made sure that each weapons delivery arrived the way it was meant to, that it was maintained and stored perfectly. it wasn't about each individual piece, but about how they came together. like a family, almost.
you smoke, you don't drink, you hold a gun like a life-line and you indulge in the illusion of peace that reigns supreme at home. and it lasts, until it doesn't. it lasts, until you feel it tearing at the seams and crumbling apart.
it lasts until it doesn't, and you wonder if this is what will finally shove you off that line you've been toeing, right off the edge. for better, for worse. for good.
wanted connections .
platonic / positive .
⋆｡°✩ and if you were drowned at sea, i'd give you my lungs so you could breathe . (1/1) — yujin park fransisco's ride or die. this is a person he either knows since childhood or met later in life and had an instant connection with. they are each other's confidantes, the one they can rely and depend on in any situation, be it fun or serious.
⋆｡°✩ blacked out, cause there might be no tomorrow . i'm out my mind, but look who's laughing now . (0/4) these are friends or acquaintances fransisco used to party with in his twenties. they could have either gone to the same university, or partied together whenever francis was back in rift valley during breaks. they can either still be on good terms, gotten up to all sorts of trouble that they'd rather not associate with now, or a secret third thing.
⋆｡°✩ but i know the present will not last, and tomorrow will be kinder . (1/1) — arisa nantasri fransisco trusts this person with his secret about his struggles either because they have gone through similar things or because they understand what he's gone through. they help each other in tough times and can be honest with one another with whatever troubles them.
platonic / negative .
⋆｡°✩ you're gonna lose your soul, you're gonna lose control, tonight . (0/1) fransisco does not drink alcohol anymore. or, at least, he tries not to. this is a fact not known by many, and only the ones he trusts, since he does not go around advertising his, what he perceives as a weakness, past alcoholism. this is a person who knows about this, either because francis misplaced his trust in them, or because they found out through other means, and they are a bad influence on him.
⋆｡°✩ listen, mark my words, one day, you will pay . karma's gonna come collect your debt . (1/1) — jason macavoy in one way or another, fransisco has wronged this person. either through his position in the mob or in a different situation entirely, he's done something that has brought misfortune upon this person. now, they are enemies.
⋆｡°✩ who needs enemies when they got friends like you ? (0/1) this is a person fransisco doesn't like all that much, and the feeling is mutual. their relationship is merely beneficial in one way or another, and they make use of what they get out of the other.
romantic .
⋆｡°✩ hey stranger, you look lonely . you could look a lot better if you put your hands on me . (0/3) long story short: people francis has hooked up with at one point or another. could even happen in the present.
⋆｡°✩ you were in my hands, but you're good at leaving . (1/1) — ryker herrera this is a person fransisco was in a situationship / relationship with, but he let them down and took it far less serious. this can have created serious enmity, or simply pain that still makes itself known whenever they meet.
⋆｡°✩ i don't like it when they threw me in the car, i gave your name as my emergency phone call . honey it rang and rang . (1/1) — yasemin durmaz fransisco's one that got away. they were in a serious relationship during his twenties where he was still deep in his party persona. they were in love, but francis was not the boyfriend he could or should have been at the time and they broke it off with him. this can be rekindled now, or still a painful loss of his that he doesn't know how to let go of.
