Name: Cassie Jenkins.
Age: 23.
Species: Human and blissfully oblivious that anything else is possible.
Gender: Female.
Height: 5'2"
Build: Curvy.
Appearance: Cassie's hair colour and style of dressing varies frequently, based on the whims of her employer. Despite this, she favours bright hair and accessories over plain and black clothes over anything flashy. She's useless in heels and so can usually be found in boots or sneakers, what her employer terms 'man-shoes'.

Sexual Orientation: Straight, although often thinks she should swing the other way in case she has more luck.

Skills/Abilities: Her primary skills consist of deciphering messy novelist handwriting, organising stacks of badly dated notes and trawling the internet. She's useless at anything even remotely girly or practical but rather good at spending most of her money on cake and wine. Her only other claim to success would be her patience; working for and mostly living with a man probably on the verge of a nervous breakdown, she has a lot to cope with other than her official workload.

Occupation/Reason for being here: Moved to London after university to do a secretarial course but has somehow ended up as the PA of a bestselling novelist with no hope of moving away any time soon.

Location: Weekdays, in the town houses. Weekends, in the outer apartments.

Personality: While unshakeably optimistic at her core, Cassie tends towards the sarcastic and bitter when reflecting upon her own life. She takes her happiness from the little things, like fluffy slipper boots and hot showers, while doing her best to slowly work towards fixing the big things. These problems consisting mainly of her employer's failing sanity and her own endless quest for romance, she prefers to focus on the little things when possible. Years working for a pain in the ass has taught her that although patience is a virtue, telling people when they're being stupid is usually the best course of action.

Despite her tendency to complain, mock and daydream, she is a hardworker and efficient at anything once she puts her mind to it. She's also a people-person and will try and chat with anyone that looks friendly enough, this attitude extending to the internet. She almost always wants to feel as if she's on the go and being productive meaning that she comes across as energetic and interested, with a hefty dose of compassion that she can't seem to shake. This relentless, mostly selfless attitude often leads to her burning herself out. During these times, she's found a few bottles of wine, a large box of chocolates and some mindless happy films can usually set her right again.

All that matters to her currently is food, potential dates, and making sure her boss meets his deadline. She'll work out all that messy life-stuff later.


Backstory:

Cassie was not an exceptional child. Average grades in general, slightly higher in English, average friends, average family, average looks. Although she was an energetic daydreamer, she tended to keep this quiet for the fear of alienating people and thus became known as one of those kind, funny but ultimately boring people. By the end of college, this was driving her insane and so it seemed natural to flee the nest and move somewhere where no one would know her.

She ended up in London, signed up to a secretarial course that promised to get her a decent job. She became quickly enamoured of lunching at cute little coffee shops and going for jogs along the Thames and was perfectly content in her cute little flat with its neat little windowbox. She cut her hair, began investing in hair dye and bought far too many clothes. Within six months, the decidedly average girl from school had several piercings, hair dye stains all over her bathroom and a more honest smile than ever before. While still lacking in good friends and utterly hopeless in the romance department, she was more than happy to spend her days studying and her nights on the internet, generally mooching around and finding out more about just the sort of person she really was. She wasn't worried when she finished her course, quickly finding a dull job in an office block that still allowed her to have lunchtime adventures.

While in this confident frame of mind on one glorious summer morning, she went to meet yet another potential Prince Charming in a cafe, as pre-arranged over one of many well frequented dating sites. That day she was blonde, so bubbly it was offending her a little, and staggering around in new heels. Her future had looked hopeful.

And then she had met K. Years later, she still doesn't know his first name.

In place of her daydream future husband, she had found a wistful and brooding novelist by the name of K. Matsuoka. After promptly deciding he liked her legs and seeing through her appearance and plans in an instant, he managed to coerce her into conversation. She regrets this. Weeks later, she was working for him as a secretary. Months after that, she found herself living in his house over the week, organising all of his notes, plans and arrangements and tidying the house to boot. Officially, she had become his PA. Unofficially, she has decided that she is his therapist.

Matsuoka, who insists she call him Vic for reasons she still doesn't know, is clearly in some sort of trouble. With a deadline fast approaching and no work getting done, Cassie has good reason to believe that her employer is losing his mind. Not only does he drink far too much and hand her pages of notes so depressing it hurts to read, but he frequently drags her out on wild goose chases after 'inspiration'. He doesn't bother stocking the house with food and refuses to buy a microwave out of pure stubbornness. Every other week, Cassie will need to sleep with eargplugs in as he entertains some trashy looking women in the adjoining room.

Although he is aggravating, rude and gloomy, Cassie is too worried about how he'd even survive on his own to leave him during the week let alone for good. Whether she likes it or not, she cares about the idiot and so has decided to stick with him, and her job, at least until the next novel comes out. She's normally seen buzzing around London on fruitless errands during her lunch breaks; anything to get her out of the stuffy mausoleum that Vic's house, and her workplace, is quickly becoming.

She is utterly oblivious to the presence of supernatural creatures in the city and is just down to earth enough to not believe anyone who tells her otherwise. Although if a ruggedly handsome man expressed interest, she wouldn't mind at all if he wanted her to think he was a monster.

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