Howard Perrine

          A local street person in his mid 40s who spends the vast majority of the time talking to himself.  His eyes are almost always bloodshot, his face unshaven, his stringy hair pressed tightly against his head.  His hands shake subtly if they’re not grasping anything.  Disheveled, though normally clean, Howie’s been around long since before this area of town became hip with the art and college crowds.  His father used to run a restaurant in downtown San Keros.  Howie used to work there before he fell on bad times, and before his family passed.  Since then he’s become a fixture of the Warren, though few proprietors are as kind to him as Jessye at the Scarlet Letter.  She lets him stay at a small table during slow nights, and treats him the same as any of her paying customers. He’s harmless, and sometimes offers words of wisdom amidst his ramblings, making those around him wonder exactly how much attention he really does pay to the ‘real world’.

           The ‘real world’ is something that Howie struggles with daily.  He has true difficulty differentiating between the people he encounters and those that are merely figments of his imagination.  Of all the patrons who frequent the Scarlet Letter, he alone has had interactions with Gedrik, who counts him as one of his few friends.


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