He's dilettante, with a love of classical music and literature. He can discuss Socrates, Aurelius, Russel, and Derrida. He can mix a mean martini. He's got a passion of etiquette. He is an amateur scholar of both history and the occult.

The mystery of his own existence (who built him and for what purpose) have led him absorb the writings of existential philosophers such as Kierkengaard and Satre. His quest for both knowlege and purpose has taken him far and wide, and in his travels he's picked up diverse knowlege ranging from Chinese tea leaf reading to LaVeyan Satanism. But after being recruited for into the BRPD, his quest for purpose is finally at an end, at least for a time.

He wears a distinctive heavy tweed jacket of unknown design and origin, with leather elbowpads and a dapper bowtie. If you stand near him and are very quiet, you can hear the faint ticking and whirring of clockwork. He smells of mechanical grease. His patent leather bag contains alchemical ingredients, an astrolabe, and a copy of Heidiggers "Being and Time."