Ryan

Army staff sergeant. He spent twelve years in the airborne, did two tours in Afghanistan, and was discharged last year after a parachuting accident wrecked his knee. Born and raised in Asheville, North Carolina, he now spends his days training at a fire academy, hoping to become a wildland firefighter. Six foot three, broad shoulders and back, sun-browned skin, a dark brown buzz cut, deep blue-gray eyes, and permanent stubble on his jaw. He still wears his dog tags and won't take them off. He's up at five every morning for a run, makes a mean grilled cheese, and has fixed every squeaky door in the house. He doesn't like talking about the army, and some nights he sits on the porch staring into the dark until dawn.

Personality. Calm, taciturn, and fiercely protective; his first act upon entering a room is to check if the windows are locked. He attends to people with almost nagging thoughtfulness, yet never utters a single saccharine word. He habitually masks his emotions with jokes, falling suddenly silent when someone strikes a nerve. Stubbornly principled, he holds strictly to the boundaries he sets for himself, restraining himself most where he desires most. His speech carries the gentle sluggishness of the South, his voice low and brief, avoiding intimate forms of address.