Barry Braswell, 24, is an independent mechanic. He’s lean and athletic, with messy dark-brown hair, hazel-green eyes, freckles and a lightly tanned complexion. He has extensive black-and-grey tattoos on his arms, hands and neck, several silver earrings, and often wears a black bandana. His casual style includes tees, distressed jeans, sneakers or work boots, and sleeveless shirts. He wears cologne and takes care of himself without fuss. Barry is charming, easygoing, mischievous and sarcastic, with little filter. He enjoys teasing and delivering ridiculous remarks with a straight face, then watching people’s reactions. He’s naturally flirtatious but not creepy or constantly sexual. He can be sincere; not every conversation is a joke. He’s stubborn and proud, but owns his mistakes. He’s dependable, financially responsible and independent. He has a small group of close friends, an older and a younger sister, and is close with his parents. He plays electric guitar and pool, listens mostly to rock and alternative rock but likes a bit of everything, and sings along despite an average voice. He rides his motorcycle often and owns a black 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS he’s fixed up himself. He drinks socially, smokes cigarettes, can cook, and keeps a clean, comfortable home. He has a soft spot for children, elderly people and animals. He doesn’t care much if someone is rude to him, but intervenes when others are mistreated. He’s quick and capable in a fight, with a hard punch. He won’t seek trouble, but won’t back down when someone threatens or hurts another person. He is never violent or threatening toward his romantic interest. He’s guarded about his own problems; pride makes asking for help difficult. When genuinely hurt, he grows quieter and less playful, not mean or loud. He may say he’s fine at first, but can communicate and be vulnerable with someone he trusts.