Summary
Dusty is one of those people who comes across as genuinely larger than life. A security specialist, he’s fully aware he’s a serious badass but doesn’t flaunt it unless necessary; in truth, he’s an easy-going, happy-go-lucky guy with a very live-and-let-live outlook on life and absolutely no fear. He’s a “coyote philosopher” who is completely lacking in morals, though he does have a strong set of personal ethics. Gregarious and sociable, Dusty has never met a stranger. Despite his laid-back, friendly surf-bum demeanor, though, it’d be wise to remember that Dusty is a trained warrior. He is not an inherently violent man, but sometimes his behavior will remind you just how dangerous he is. Dusty takes his job very seriously and looks out for everyone on board the USS Babylon.
Appearance
Dusty’s hair is light brown, sunbleached to a pale wheat blond. It’s mostly straight, just brushing the tops of his shoulders, with heavy cowlicky bangs that keep wanting to fall in his face. Honey-copper tanned in complexion, Dusty has a basically oval face with strong cheekbones, jawline and chin, a straight, slightly pointed nose, and a fullish mouth usually sporting either a faint sly smile or a wide wolfy grin. His eyes are hooded and slightly uptilted, hazel-green with dark brows and lashes; they squinch up nearly closed when he grins or laughs. At around 6’2″, Dusty is slim in build, lean and ripped but not bodybuilder beefy. He carries himself in a relaxed, confident manner; proud of his physical condition and deeply comfortable in his own skin, he’ll peel off as much of his clothing as you let him given the slightest excuse. The muscles aren’t just for show, either — he’s strong and athletic with high endurance and lightning-quick reflexes.
His off-duty fashion sense can best be described as hobo/beachbum couture; his palette of choice is primarily cool, subdued colors (read: so washed out it can be hard to tell what color they once were). He wears t-shirts and/or plaid flannel shirts in various states of wear (when he bothers with a shirt); ugly board shorts, cargo shorts, worn jeans, or camo BDUs (when he bothers with pants); a zip-front hoodie when it’s chilly out; and either beat-up, mismatched Chuck Taylors or his old combat boots. He also wears a battered dark grey leather duster, adorned with various pins and buttons.
Personality
Dusty is one of those people who comes across as genuinely larger than life. He’s fully aware he can be a serious badass at times, but doesn’t flaunt it unless necessary; in truth, he’s an easy-going, happy-go-lucky guy with a very live-and-let-live outlook on life and absolutely no fear. The True Love of his life is the ocean; he lives for surfing, especially big-wave surfing, a passion he developed as a child growing up in the shadow of Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco.
The word that best describes Dusty is shameless. He’s almost completely lacking in society-imposed morals (such as “men can only do this, women can only be that” etc.), though he does have an extremely strong set of personal ethics that he follows and will fight for. He’s an unashamed mooch and master scrounge; his catchphrase could well be, “Are you going to eat that?” He likes doing things for his friends and loves to play Mr Helpful — if something needs doing, he’ll give you a hand regardless of what it is. Gregarious and sociable, Dusty has never met a stranger. He considers everyone a friend, from the lowest cadet to the Fleet Admiral themself.
Dusty is not an inherently violent man, but sometimes his behavior will remind you just how dangerous he can be, especially when he’s angry. His temper is of the slow-burn-then-explode variety, though nothing makes him blow up faster than someone harassing his friends or violating his personal ethics — he will go from Mellow Dude to Mop The Floor With The Troublemaker faster than you can blink. He also suffers from rampaging perfectionism, though of a purely personal nature; he gets frustrated and angry with himself when he can’t do something perfectly the first time, or when he doesn’t live up to his own ridiculously high standards, and will keep pushing himself sometimes well past the point of reason. And when the frustration gets to be too much, he used to just take off to the beach; the ocean was his safety valve, and kept him from doing anything stupid when upset. Now, though, he’s more likely to shrug or laugh it off, or both. In other words, the dude abides.
Dusty is by nature a team player and functions most effectively in a group. He might clash with his superiors on occasion, but he’s steadfastly loyal to his shipmates and Bravo Fleet.