Toby's house. You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. -Some guy named Ron His hands are always doing something, twitching or fiddling with random items. As a man outside the law, he is often nervous and on the lookout for people after him. His nails are caked with dust, dirt, and various contraband powders. Toby’s palm’s are worn from years of hard work, very calloused and covered in scars and scratches. Toby is balding with a beard, and ginger-red hair. His eyes are simultaneously wide and squinty, his eyebrows are bushy, and his nose has a subtle hook to it. He has a slight tooth gap, and when he smiles, it’s clear he’s missing a tooth or two from various fights. His voice is something of a deeper-voiced Joe Pesci, new york accent and all. He is very expressive when he talks, throwing his hands about with every word. He’s partial to swear words, his favourite being a healthy dose of “fuckin’” (or rather, fackin’). He's 5'7, and his body is nothing special; He’s not muscular, but he’s not fat by any means. His preferred attire is a black hoodie with ripped blue-jeans, as well as a black beanie. His boots are worn and falling apart. In the waistband of his jeans, it’s clear to see that he has a gun stashed away (not that he ever intends to use it.) Lining his jeans, he has a belt studded with bullet shells of varying caliber to give himself a bit of street cred.
