The boy sits back in the chair and adjusts his hips, getting as comfortable as possible.

"First off," he drawls, his accent thick and deeply southern, "Don' put my name down as Micheal--put it as 'Mick' er 'Mickey' er sum'... I don' like the name '*Micheal*'. And if I had to describe myself, I'd saaaayy..." he trails off, a low breath escaping him as his head lolls back. He sits straight up after a second, smirking at you.

"I'm a polite, well mannered, excellent young man!" He flashes a grin that you know causes and gets into trouble, feigning innocence.