<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/dsETKzc.jpg?1)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Chas Fortier<br/><strong>Occupation:</strong>Animal Control<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Morning, 1st Day A.E.<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Granny's Diner - Belle's Table (Interior) --->  Parking Lot (Exterior)<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Belle.  Meg.  Lothar (Mentioned).<br/><br/><hr/><br/>A shade of a smile came across Chas's face as he heard her words.  So caught up in the scathing remarks, Chas paid no attention to the look she gave someone else.  For in that moment, he dwelt on the comment that cut deep.<br/><br/>He had been raised to believe he was the best at everything, and Chas believed it.  His Poppa always said he was the best, always pushed him to be the best that he could do.  Failure, coming in second, was never an option.  He practiced with his rifle until he was a damn good shot.  He learned how to play music on his guitar until the shrill, disjointed sounds became sweet, beautiful melodies to his ears.  No one could swing an axe like Chas.  No one could throw down  like Chas.  No one, in his opinion, could compare to him.<br/><br/>But education...  Formal schooling...  That was something he never learned growing up.  School and books were for sissies and weak folk, his father always said.  A real man made something out of himself with his hands and heart, not his mind.  Chas never learned his letters.  The only education he got growing up was how to be a man, and to be the best.  School, books, all of that were beneath real men, his Daddy always said.<br/><br/>It was something he tried to keep to himself.  An act he kept up in public.  He bought a newspaper every day, and could make out what was happening and going on from the images.  He read in his own way, through images, while to others, it might have seemed like he was simply reading the letters and type of the newspaper.  At work, he always passed off his paperwork and filings to the little pipsqueak Floue who idolized him down at the Animal Control office.  He kept a few books around the house, show to further keep the lie he kept.<br/><br/>Belle's remark, that cutting reminder that, when it came to something simple, something a child could do, he couldn't do it, stung worse than any criticism he had heard.<br/><br/>“Ha, ha, ha...” He dryly sounded.  “What is with you and books?  How do you ever think you're going to find a man when you always have your nose buried in a book?”<br/><br/>Slowly he began to move from the seat, rising to his feet.  “I've got some steaks in the fridge over at my place.” Chas began.  “Why don't you think about coming over sometime.  You can cook dinner and tell me all about those books of yours.”<br/><br/>The offer hung in the air as he began to march his way out of the diner.  She wouldn't accept, of course.  Belle never did.  One of the few women to continually reject and deny him.  It wouldn't have felt right to not make such an offer though, holding out to a hope that one day she'd see the truth of the matter.  One day, he told himself.  One day.<br/><br/>Chas gave a polite nod of acknowledgment to the law-keeper, before moving out through the gathering crowd of the diner.  Soon he stepped outside, into the inviting fresh air.  It felt good to get out of there.  Felt good to get back to the outdoors, and start the day off on what he hoped to be a more positive note.<br/><br/>And the sexy little thing perched upon the yellow beetle was exactly what the doctor prescribed.  If anyone could brighten his day, if there was anyone, or anything, in the world that could make the troubles, the doubts, disappear from his mind, it was Meg.<br/><br/>He began to make his way over to the small little gathering of people outside, his eyes locked in upon her.  Having gone around the car, Chas came up beside her, an arm thick with muscles and strength reaching out and pulling her into him him.  “Hey good-lookin'.”