Name: Charley
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Former Occupation: 4th grader
Physical Description: Charley is short for her age, and severely scrawny from years of malnutrition. Her cheek bones are pronounced and face hollow looking. She's pale, and generally dirty looking just about always. She has long, brunette hair, which she maintains in a single braid at the back of her head. Despite Clara's best efforts, the clothing she wears generally looks over-sized and bulky when hanging on her near-skeletal frame.
Equipment: Clothing, ski goggles, gloves, small pry bar, ice ax, gypsy bag, ratty photo of a much younger her standing in front of an older boy, man and woman.
Biography: Charley was a regular school girl in the fourth grade when the bombs dropped. She was evacuated with her family to Bunker 13. Everybody in her family caught the first bout of Typhus that hit the shelter due to crowded conditions, and due to lack of antibiotics by that time, only she survived. She has been a sort of orphan of the bunker since then, and makes herself useful by trying her best at behaving. She's not necessarily a nuisance to the population, but she's still really just a kid still. Her most valuable, and least valuable, asset is her size. She is one of the more prolific scavengers for the bunker, and often braves the environment to squirrel her way into places many others would never fit.
Skills: Scavenge-> 3; Hide-> 3; Climb-> 2; Dirty Fighting-> 1; Sew-> 1; Cook-> 0; Gambling-> 0
Flaws: Small-> 2; Sickly-> 1; Bad Temper-> 1; Illiterate-> 1
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Charley sat in the hallway of the bunker. She vacantly stared at the gray wall in front of her as she idly twisted the end of her braid around her finger, and then released it before repeating the process. She pulled herself out of her thoughts as her stomach expressed its displeasure of being empty with a loud gurgle, and she looked up and down the hallway. She idly wondered when, or if, Fast Mickey was going to return. The way he talked before going out, you'd think he was going to come back with oodles of food. She groaned softly as the thought reminded her of her empty stomach once more, and she pressed her hand against her gut.
Charley slowly stood up while using the cold, concrete wall for support. She looked up and down the hallway once again, before she wandered off to the deeper bowels of Bunker 13. She had to find something to take her mind off of eating.