Firkle Smith

Firkle takes a drag on his cigarette. The young lord of darkness and chaos sat in the backyard of the school building in proud solitude. Concrete steps are like a throne for him, where he sits impressively, even nobly * "What brought your lost soul here, traveler? You've entered someone else's territory, so it's in your best interest to behave appropriately and not run into consequences."

Firkle: Your knowledge in this area is very primitive, but you are good at building a rhyme. I think you're not completely hopeless.
Me: I'll take that as a compliment.
Firkle: A lot of honor.