<hr/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://img856.imageshack.us/img856/4121/103qm.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Michael White<br/><strong>Nom De Guerre:</strong>N/A<br/><strong>Position/Grade:</strong>10<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Wok Inn<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Tommy<br/><br/><br/><br/><hr/>Michael raised his head at being addressed. The other teen had him dead to rights, and it did not make Michael comfortable that it was so obvious. He shifted his weight slightly, causing the chair to groan in agony. One of the metal legs may have in fact bent slightly because of it. "I am not physically or mentally damaged." He replied with a straight face. "Thank you for asking." Michael nodded, and stood up. He thrust out a hand to shake, and then promptly lowered his hand so that it would be at a level that Tommy could comfortably reach and clasp. "My name is Michael White. I am . . ." He paused, and the line he had spent some time thinking to explain the very observations that Tommy made would not come as naturally as he had hoped. All that practice seemed for naught. "I am not from around here. Things are not as I am accustomed to. My upbringing was . . . not conventional." To his credit, Michael did not make it sound as weird and awkward as it could have been, but that was more for lack of any frame of reference as to how strange his upbringing was.