Hexxie never knew stability long enough to miss it. He grew up in the lower veins of Thistlebrook where people slept above taverns, beneath stairwells, inside abandoned storage lofts, anywhere rain couldn’t fully reach. The streets raised him collectively: gamblers taught him bluffing, thieves taught him timing, bartenders taught him listening, drunks taught him what loneliness sounded like after midnight.
Nobody formally cared for him. But nobody fully abandoned him either. He survived through proximity, through movement, through making himself useful, funny, charming, forgettable, memorable, whatever the room needed most. That adaptability became instinct.
Long before he learned to fight properly, Hexxie learned to disarm tension with personality. He could talk dockworkers out of punches, guards into second chances, merchants into discounts, lonely people into trust. Charm fed him before crime ever did. Thistlebrook taught him something simple: people want to feel good before they want to feel right. He built his life around that understanding.
Lich entered his life early. The two were gutter kids from neighboring corners, surviving through theft, speed, bad decisions, and mutual loyalty. Where Lich exploded, Hexxie diffused. Where Hexxie manipulated, Lich intimidated. Together they survived situations neither would have escaped alone. People underestimated how dangerous Hexxie was because Lich drew attention first. He preferred it that way.
He drifted naturally into nightlife: taverns, gambling houses, music dens, underground markets. Known not as the strongest in the room, but the smoothest. The kind of man who made people feel seen for exactly long enough to become reckless around him. He learned attraction functioned like leverage, that attention opened doors faster than violence ever could.
But underneath the charm sat a fear he never fully admitted: permanence. Stillness unnerved him. Routine unnerved him. Dependency terrified him. The moment things became emotionally serious, he created distance, through humor, flirtation, movement, new people, new nights. Not because he enjoyed hurting people, but because he associated emotional permanence with eventual collapse. Everything in Thistlebrook ended eventually. So he learned to live inside moments instead of futures.
He met Boots shortly after Boots abandoned noble society, and noticed something most missed: Boots meant what he said. That rarity fascinated him. Boots became the first person Hexxie followed voluntarily, not because Boots demanded loyalty, but because he earned it.
He desperately craves connection. But the moment connection starts becoming permanent, he runs before it can become loss.