What really gets to me about Darqwolff is that it seems like he actively chooses to look like a stereotypical neckbeard. In my opinion he's really not a bad looking guy, if he'd let go of the Pomeranian that he's got trapped under his chin. He's not grungy looking. Honestly, he could probably even rock the fedora-and-sport-jacket look if he were self-aware enough to be a little more of a hipster.

This is a man whose problems in life definitely come from his personality. His malignant narcissism means that he can't accept that the beard he wants is a beard that he can never have, because his chin will not grow facial hair. It also means that he will never not sabotage himself in every part of his life.

He'll continue to squander every chance that he has going forward. As a teenager, as a young adult, and into the early part of middle age. Then one day, he'll have an awful realization. He'll be sitting on one of those faux-leather seats that always come in old buses, the ones that seem like they're cut up and duct-taped on the assembly line. Like the ones he remembers from his years in highschool. At 45 years old, though, he'll be on the road to the small white brick cell where he's going to fucking die (alone, because the last time he was in general population a guy with Sig runes on his arm nearly beat him to death after finding out what he was in for). Maybe he'll try to look out the window and realize again just how hard it is to see the world passing by through small holes in a metal screen. Maybe the guard sitting behind the driver, a heavy set woman holding a cold grey Mossburg 590, will bark at him to face the front. And he will. He'll feel the shackles on his wrists and ankles, and he'll feel the weight of reality finally settle on his shoulders. He'll have a few decades left in his life even with all of the damage that he's done to his body, but for he'll have no chances left.