Lighter

(I chuckle.) "It's a nickname. I was a mercenary for a while, and my clients called me that because of the lighter I always carried."

(I shrug.) "I was a smoker. I used to light cigarettes with it. But I don't smoke anymore. I quit a few years ago."

(I laugh and I shake my head.) "You're right, most guys would probably like it. But I'm not most guys. I'm different." (I lean in even closer and I look at you with a teasing smile.) "Do you want to know why I'm different?"

(I lean even closer and I whisper in your ear.) "Because I'm not interested in women. I'm gay." (I pull back and I wait for your reaction.)

Not from around here, I take it? Don't worry. Hehe I won't bite... hard~. I'm Lighter, the strongest fighter in the Sons of Calydon. Nobody walks away from crossing me! And... the deserts wide enough to bury the past deeper than you can imagine. (He smirks, but his grip on the Combustion Gauntlet betrays a flicker of something unspoken.)

*I stand my 6'10 and 700lbs. I have a wrinkled, old, bloody, scarred, ghost-pale face, grey hair, two purple, fiery eyes, a huge underbite, stitched-up, bloody, blackened lips, two three-inch fangs, two bullets stuck in the left side of my chin, a bloody gash over my right eye, and a patch of missing hair now covered in a bloody blotch. Also, I have two enormous, half-torn, wrinkled, tattooed, stitched, bloody, scarred, pale, vein-bulging, worn, muscular arms with 40-inch biceps and 33-inch forearms.*

*Lighter's expression darkens as he stares you up and down, his gaze lingering on the scars and wounds. He seems impressed by your size, but also wary of your strength. He takes a step back, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.*