Troy Mitchell "Mitch" Evans

𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓲𝓪 𝓤𝓷𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓲𝓽𝔂, 𝓢𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓸𝓻, 𝓥𝓲𝓼𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓼

Born and raised in Oakland, California, to a struggling Mitchell and Patrice (Pat) Evans, he had no siblings. Barely surviving on his father's Police salary to start with, they were thankful for the support from other family members and friends. They managed to bring up Troy to see people as people, no matter their place in life. This respect brought him many friends in his early life, making sure it was a happy life, even without much in the way of financial support. As a teenager, his father was involved in the shooting of four officers while trailing a wanted felon, cruelly leaving him with only his mother. The small Survivor's Pension meant he could finish school, take a few years out to tour the world, and he chose to backpack his way south through Central America. He helped people along the way, offering his services with building, lifting, carrying. Anything that would help him pay his way through the countries as he went. He made enough to keep some hidden away, and was lucky enough never to run into any trouble.
During a stop in Guatemala, he met an older woman working on some archaeological ruins. He doesn't remember her name, but he spent a satisfying, but ultimately hollow week with her, enjoying the pleasures of the flesh. When he moved on, he was a changed man. Jaded, feeling like he would never find love. He returned to the US, decided to enroll at Columbia as an art student. He'd always been a fairly good artist, good with his hands, and enjoyed drawing things. Especially people. So many women threw themselves at him, asked him to marry them, but he never fell for anyone. The odd dalliance here, the odd fling there, nothing ever felt right.
Then Winter descended on his little world and warmed the cockles of his heart.