Milo Mundus is a quiet and almost piteously pathetic man. He lives alone, works alone, worries alone and therefore never needs to worry about having much to worry about; when one is ones own company, one tends to be certain of ones own activities and very little is left to fret over. That is how Milo likes it. He is, by nature, the worrying type, and found out early on that the less he gave himself to preside over or take responsibility for, the more peaceful he would be.
Milo craves peace like an alcoholic aches for the bottle—his shaky hands is always clutching at it and often gets it in deep swigs at a time, but he is never free of the nagging sensation that he shouldn’t have too much of it at a time or it won’t be good for him. Milo isn’t good with people, nor is he comfortable in crowds. He haunts the tavern on lonely nights when he can muster up the courage to leave his flat, and rarely ventures anywhere else. Milo works with computers; creating software and occasionally dabbling in freelance web design when the spirit moves him. He spends days on end without leaving the house. His skin is pale and waxy. His eyes are tired clumps of jelly-- dulled by screens and forever doomed to rotate in a face lacking affection. Milo rarely takes the time to go to the barber, so his curly hair hangs like coils of leftover pasta in his face. Milo sees little reason in changing out of his red and blue striped rugby shirt and corduroy pants, so he hardly ever does. Milo lives on Earl Grey tea, rice crackers and trail mix he picks up cheap from the all-hours store down the road from the pub. He has one plant, a hibiscus flower, growing in a bright green pot; the only glimpse of life between the white-washed walls, second-hand furniture and strewn socks of his apartment.

The hibiscus was courtesy of Amanda Perafrancus, the girl in the flat to the right of Milo. She works at the specialty vacuum store across the street from the pub where Milo wastes the occasional Friday night. She dreams of one day opening a flower store and has an inexplicable talent for making beautiful things grow out of small seeds, dark earth and clear water. She wears overalls and glows in comparison to the dim, foggy town of Exanim. She is three years Milo’s junior at 21 and she loves him with all her heart. Milo doesn’t take much notice, but admits that it is the highlight of his month when his doorway reflects the light bouncing off her chamomile hair as she brings him a warm squash pie.
Milo has given thought once or twice before to asking Miss Perafrancus on a date, but decided against it. Surely Milo would cock it up somehow and manage to seem like a fool at Miss Perafrancus’ expense. He couldn’t imagine having such a pretty, sweet-smelling creature relying on him for anything and feels absolutely certain that he would find a way to ruin it. So at the moment, he’s cutting his losses, gratefully eating his month’s ration of pie and dutifully watering his hibiscus; just like Amanda told him to.