Please, Mr Lacey,
let me work your lovely machine!
Will you let me control all the handles?
You know, it's the best thing I've ever seen!
Where, Mr Lacey,
where'd you learn just what to do?
Can you fix me up now with a teacher?
I wanna become an inventor too!
Why, Mr Lacey,
why'd you do the things you do?
It's true no-one here understands now,
but maybe some day they'll catch up with you!
~ Fairport Convention - "Mr Lacey"
This fellow represents one of the reasons why I'm a terrible insomniac -- I think of things when I should be sleeping.
This guy came to me... Monday evening. I blame my mother, who wants to buy me steampunk jewellery for my birthday (hey, I'm game!). From what I've managed to discover/decide in the last two days, his name is Mr Lacey, after the song. Don't know his first name, but whatever it is, he hates it and insists that everyone calls him by his surname. I think his middle name is Jeremiah. He's a Victorian engineer specialising in weapons. The kind of engineer who wears their lab gear all the time, is grumpy with anyone who doesn't understand "the point of it all" and always has dirty hands.
This'll probably get shaded at some point.
He made a clockwork-powered machine gun, which I will draw as soon as I can work out how the damn thing works.
[EDIT 03/05/09] - Yay for shading!
[EDIT MARK II 25/05/09] His given names are Thomas Isaac. And his business partner/best friend/confusion-and-bereavement-driven unrequited love interest/backstabbing Judas (in that order) is one Jeremy Zachariah Clifton. First to point out the bad joke wins. Also, I like Hebrew.