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<span>Spoiler: <span class="bbCodeSpoiler-button-title">Alistair 'Ali' Harvey</span></span>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Name: Alistair Harvey <br/>
Nickname: Ali <br/>
Age: 30<br/>
Occupation: Artist <br/>
Personality: He is a control freak and perfectionist. If the slightest thing is not correct about his work or inspiration he will need to change it to make sure it is. Even if it means starting over from the beginning, or goes into a spiral of depression if he can't. <br/>
Background: Ali was born into a loving and caring family. His artistic talents grow from a young age as he would paint with his mother, who herself was a semi-profession artist. Attending art school in London at the age of 18 before moving to new york. <br/>
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</div><br/>The night had fallen over the urban jungle, and it was once again time for the lonely struggling artist to drown his sorrows in a tall cold glass of beer, it was bitting and tasted like piss, but after several years of wondering his chosen home, it seemed that nowhere sold lager. But in the end, it carried out the same job, after all, getting him happy and merry for a few hours... until waking the next morning with his head spinning, throat dry and the taste of vomit lingering on his tongue.<br/><br/>His struggles were not due to lack of sales, he made enough to pay for his home and fund his other pleasures, but it was due to his mind consistently drawing blanks when it came to coming up with ideas about what to paint, his muse was gone and the work that found its way onto the canvas let a more bitter taste in his mouth then the drinks he forced down his throat every night.<br/><br/>Tonight's watering hole or starting point anyway was called 'The ear Inn' The venue that was not familiar to Alistair, nor was the attending crowd but the drinks on offer where more than know to the male, in fact looking at the choices as he stood behind a blond woman it seemed that all of the beers on tape he had tried at one point or another during the long nights he had spent drowning his sorrows.<br/><br/>After scanning the options and finally making the decision in his mind, he needed another form of entertainment as he waited near the crowded. To his enjoyment, the blond who stood in front was exactly that. His eyes wondering her back slowly moving down and falling upon his ass and thighs. Her perky behind more than keeping his occupied through the lengthy wait at the counter. Although it seemed to have been cut short as she turned, moving slightly to the side in an attempt to let her pass but of course she moved the same way, bumping into him sending the foam on top along with the liquid to spill onto his outfit. Wet patches instantly becoming visible, as his blank face changed into an annoyed scowl.<br/><br/>An annoyed sigh leaving his lips as his eyes quickly flicked up to hers, and his ears picked up on her words, no matter how hard it was to hear her due to the loud pub. His postures straitening making his already hight advantage only look larger. 'Sir'? Really did he look that old?<br/><br/>"Just look out for where you are going... alright love. Next time you might find someone who gives a shit anymore." His voice far from pleasant as his eyes fall off of hers and shamelessly started to look down her petite tight form. Curves in all the right places, her stomach flat, and breasts seemed to be perky, although that may be due to her bra, either way, it made for a better view for him.<br/><br/>Alistair should really act more pleasant towards people, but seeing he had just had a random woamns drink spilt over his clothing it was understanable to be pissed off.