- He's an absolute alcoholic. Perhaps it's because it reminds him of home. The smell of wine, the sound of laughter, the warmth of a cheerful crowd. It brings back memories of a life he can no longer return to, yet still finds comfort in the little pieces of it he can hold onto. For a moment, he's happy. For a moment, he feels at home again. How he manages to get his hands on the stuff is anyone's guess. A magician never reveals his secrets.
- He is a man of many talents, particularly in the performing arts. Everything else required of a proper, respectable, and presentable individual was taught to him, and he learned to uphold that image well. Yet beneath that polished exterior, he was, at heart, a rather silly fellow. Someone who could let loose and indulge in his own foolishness when given the freedom to do so. Or, at least, he was. Nowadays, he hardly seems capable of performing at all. His eyes were important for more than their beauty or the strange Void abilities they held. They were his means of seeing the world, of gauging his surroundings, reading others, and knowing precisely what he was doing. Without them, so much of what he had spent his life mastering has become painfully difficult, if not impossible. It is as though years of practice, discipline, and talent have all slipped through his fingers. And for someone who once knew how to command a room, there is perhaps nothing more humiliating than no longer knowing how to move within one.