Lorenzo Mangione
Lorenzo Mangione
A man like any other: seeking purpose and belonging. He’s American born and bred, coming up in the world of hard knocks, all with an Italian flavoring. Lorenzo is new to Haven, fresh in from the Greyhound, and blazing a trail from the City of Angels; seeking a bit of peace, quiet, and a job. Easy on the eyes, a bit eccentric, and surely the odd ball out. He’s probably not here for a long time but most likely a good time.
What I'm Doing in Haven
Escaping his demons, fleeing a past, and just getting the fuck out of Dodge. Lorenzo is trading a hell he knew for a fresh hell he hasn’t even begun to realize. Everyone has a history, and short of cartoonish mustache twirling villains, some of it is good, some of it is bad, and some of it is ugly; but Lorenzo will tell you, “Mum’s the word.” Ask yourself, do you really give a fuck, or is he just a new shiny thing to play with until you grow bored?
Fitting in a Supernatural World
If he has any say he’ll stay far-far-far out of it for as long as possible. Lorenzo has no desire to play patsy, toady, or meat shield for the things that go bump in the night. He’s trying to live life as humanly as possible. Trying being the prerogative! Honestly what’s one more sob story in a world full of shit, do you really want to know?
Coping with the Lurking Horrors
With Sex, and Drugs, and Rock & Roll; without so much the drugs, well that aren’t prescription, so just a lot of sex, copious amounts of liquor, all to a wide range of loud noises bitching about the world. One big march of the walking dead rhythmically gyrating to bright flashes, blaring sounds, and lungs that don’t quit.
More About Me
Lorenzo, also known as Nines, enjoys the simple things in life: babes, bullets, and booze. Always looking for a bit of mischief, that doesn’t really hurt anyone, he’s a devil-may-care, until it’s time to run like a bat out of hell. Never let it be said Lorenzo ever passed up any opportunity to stick it to the man. Saying he has sticky fingers is putting it lightly. Last, but not least, in his quirky way he’s turned his body into a canvas of wearing his thoughts on his sleeves, chest, back, and anywhere inspiration hits him.
I'm the Best
Everyone is the hero of their story, a little self-love is good for the soul, or at the very least he’s laughing out loud to mask the bullshit beneath; yet when he isn’t saving kittens from trees he’s usually ripping some rich piece of shit off, throwing a little bit a vagabond's way, or setting the homeless up in a hotel for the night; isn't he just a saint? A good doesn't wash away a bad and the bad doesn't hide the good, but maybe just maybe he can buy a little piece of heaven before the end?
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