Jonathan Teatime (pronounced Teh-a-tah-meh; he’s very particular on this point) is a pupil of the Assassin’s Guild in Ankh-Morpork (a major metropolis resembling Victorian London in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series.) Despite having been taken in as a foundling and raised by the Guild from a young age after the unfortunate, (probably) accidental death of his parents, given an excellent education both broadly and in the Guild's particular area of expertise, and despite being exceptional in both skill and devotion to his line of work, Teatime is not yet a full Guild member. This is likely due to the issue that other Guild members take with his obvious keen enjoyment of the work of assassination. Teatime kills for the pleasure of it, and for the challenge; the money he receives is incidental. This is contra to the professional standards of behavior the Guild likes to set.He is an excellent assassin, that much can’t be disputed. He’s eminently clever with a brilliant mind for strategy; quick, agile, and stealthy to a degree that almost seems supernatural. He is single-mindedly dedicated to learning on any subject that might improve his work, and amuses himself in his free time by coming up with theoretical ways to eliminate especially difficult targets - for instance, Death. But he’s also childish, giddy, prone to getting bored or irritated. He’s utterly without feeling for other people; for most assassins, this coldness comes with age, but for Teatime, it seems to be innate. Despite his handsome, boyish look, he isn’t especially charismatic - indeed, his mere presence seems to put people on edge, whether or not they know of him by reputation. There is simply a feeling of danger that permeates the air as he moves through a room. As a result, he doesn’t have many friends; this troubles him, to some extent. There is a part of him that likes to keep up the impression of politeness, courtesy, and he’s bothered when that politeness is not returned.
Arthur Quincy Flavisham Ozymandias Renfield Collins is the proprietor of a not-especially-successful tailor shop and millinery in Ankh-Morpork. A small man of mild temperament, he is polite, but cowardly; good at his craft, but without much of a head for business, and due to a combination of that and bad luck, he has been living month-to-month for many years. Having earned a reputation as a discreet and private sort, he's been known to do commission work for the city's criminal element from time to time, when the price is right. Fake uniforms, fancy dress for blending into high society, that sort of thing. He doesn't think of himself as an unlawful fellow by nature, but he has also learned that the high-minded ideals he might have possessed as a younger man are cold comfort to an empty stomach. He is of a nervous disposition, not without reason. Distinct ears, in combination with his size, give him away as not fully human; they are long and pointed like a gnome's, but by some difference in Arthur's biological composition they flop over on themselves like a stray dog's might. When he works, he keeps his long, sable hair tied back low with a silk ribbon - the only time he appears halfway collected. In spite of his overall condition as a cynic, he is friendly, perhaps too friendly for his own good, with a general goodwill towards people that he's never really been able to quash. If pressed to name two of his strengths, one could point out dress sense and an above-par ability to tolerate discomfort.