Joel Saxon
He was tall and fit, dressed in a sharp black suit, blue shirt and red-on-black tie. It went with the tanned skin, short, sandy hair swept back from a solemn face and rather lovely brown eyes framed by dark lashes and gold-rimmed glasses. When he spoke, he was very polite and courteous almost to the point of infuriation. Not that you would eve see them, but he had a couple of scars, a long line on his forearm from the stitches after his arm was broken and the bone protruded through the skin and a mass of scar tissue on his right shoulder from a vampire that tried to peel the skin off his arm in ragged lines.
The Reaper may seem quiet and unassuming, even like a boy scout in a suit that can do no wrong, but it is only a mask. Underneath that is a brutally efficient killer who will kill anyone or anything that gets in the way. His only downfall is that he is a little near-sighted, unable to focus clearly on anything less than a couple of feet in front of him.
"I can hit the middle of the ace of diamonds at a hundred yards, yet I canít read my own business card right in front of me. Go figure."