Icarus Lamont . / " you know, the only thing I'm good for is my cooking and my mouth . " 

He had been someone before the pissed off hunter was thrown into his small studio apartment a thousand curses flying from his lips, covered in blood that night. Everyone forgets that he is made of flesh and blood . Made of - crooked grins , careful delicate hands that tremble when he's happy, eyes that rival the night sky. Everyone forgets that he is brilliant , no even his bright mind is easily overlooked due to a demonic curse placed on him. It's sad really, that no one even cares. It's impossible for them too, after all.