Name: Spencer Jervis
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Species: Red Fox
Appearance: Spencer is a little short. Not terribly short, not comically short, just... a bit below the eye level of your average Exanian. He wishes he could make up for it with rippling muscles and a handsome face, but his drinking habits have left him with a slight belly and his muzzle is short and slightly askew with the rest of his face, the equivalent of a crooked nose. He makes up for it with what he believes are beautiful blue eyes, though in truth they are more a sickly blue-green. He also has a couple of earrings in his left pointy black furred fox ear.
Spencer dresses in a heavy trenchcoat which he thinks makes him look stylish. It is actually a bit big for him, in contrast to the dark red and black striped waistcoat he wears which is painfully too small. Under that he wears a white collared shirt. His trousers tuck into his pilot's boots, which are lined with wool to keep him warm. He also wears aviator's gloves and goggles on his head along with a peaked cap.
History
Grand Air District
"Oi! Shillin' to watch yer plane? I'll guard it proper like!" Spencer bounded after the Skipper of a shiny red biplane that had just landed on runway 2 Left, Grand Air District. The bare-footed foxboy scampered alongside the older fox's heavy gait. His tail wagged furiously, his mouth gaping. The pilot sighed and threw him a silver coin.
"Better keep alert, boy," the pilot said. Spencer nodded happily, pawing at his new coin. That could buy him a drink and a meal, no problem. His father certainly would not be catching a glimpse of the profits of his wayward son's little plane-guarding business.
"Oh, yessah! Guard it like a hawk, I shall!" Spencer dutifully scooted up the metal steps and sat outside the cockpit, baring his teeth at any airport worker he though was straying too close. Fox boys like him were a common sight around the hangars and pads on Grand Air District, paid a little money to keep people's livelihoods safe. Plane thieves were very harshly dealt with in Exanos and everybody could afford a shilling for a young Lamplighter like Spencer to watch their craft.
Half an hour later, the fox returned. Running. With two furs behind him toting MACHINE GUNS.
"Oh... bugger," Spencer whimpered, his ears flattening. The fox hauled him into his plane by the scruff of his neck and handed him a revolver.
"Ten shillings if you start shooting RIGHT NOW!" The fox bawled. Spencer immediately leant out the cockpit and shot one of the pursuers. The gun report made him yelp and the kick nearly knocked the weapon into his face. Meanwhile, the Skipper had flipped on the magnetos and was starting the engine. The propeller coughed and rotated. The pilot eased up the throttle, encouraging the pistons to spring to life.
"Come on, come on!" The other gunman shot back at Spencer, who shrieked and took cover. The engine roared to life and suddenly the biplane was rolling down the tarmac to the runway. The radio crackled angrily, they had no clearance to take off. The pilot opened the throttle wide and they were off. Spencer grinned cheekily.
"That'll be ten shillings, sah!"
Airship for Hire
Spencer hauled on his zeppelin's controls. The young fox's pride and joy, the Streamslipper was a four-engined, stubby-nosed airship he had won in a bet. It had red fins and a white body, although it was more grey looking these days. He had a decal of a feral fox wrapped in blue currants of wind on the side, but his favourite part was the interior. Fancy art deco furniture, brass and silver with wood panelling. It was the single most rich thing he had ever owned in his life, and he had started as a mere Lamplighter.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be touching down at the Spanner and Sprocket in approximately-..."
THUMP.
Oh. So the runway was a little closer than he thought. Damn fog messed with his sense of perspective. He instantly changed his tune.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have landed at the Spanner and Sprocket! As I've already collected your fares, you may depart this beautiful zeppelin as soon as we come to a complete-..."
BANG.
Oh. The hangar's lights weren't working today.
"...You may depart this beautiful zeppelin!" Spencer smiled and left the flight deck to stand by the door of his lovely, lovely airship. His passengers, a few grumpy Drillers and a young couple from Junre departed hastily, avoiding eye contact with their pilot. Spencer jingled their money in his pocket and smiled, showing off his rows of sharp white teeth. Time to treat himself to the air-pub's famous meals and copious amounts of alcohol. He loved this job.
