~Gallant, showy in dress or bearing~


If you were too look up the word 'gallant' in a Frisian dictionary you'd find an etching of Raoul beside the definition of the word. Everything about him was carefully thought out. The way he wore his puffed shirt slightly creased, it's buttons done up unevenly, his well oiled but messy long hair and the stubble that spread out from his else-wise neatly trimmed beard. All of it was carefully designed to give an impression of effortless swagger. Of course, there never was such a thing as effortless good looks. There never will be.

To lend further emphasis to his rakish good looks he carried himself like one too. A cheerful manner of bravado propelled him in most everything that he did. Certainly in everything that he said. Some would maintain that his attitude bordered and sometimes crossed over to arrogance.

Those who deigned to look down on his brand of care-free and swaggering brand of handsomeness would likely call him 'pretty boy' instead, their voices dripping with disdain as they did. But he was a pretty boy. They were right. Yet under that carefully engineered veneer something sharp dwelled. Something much sharper than his looks, however difficult they may be to trump.