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Ezra Whitlock was a total suck-up.
An ass-kisser to put it more up to term. He was the golden boy, the boy next door, swooning the heart of everyone, making his way up to valedictorian, top of his class, full rides to any school he wanted to go without a dime. Life of A's and praise, the boy made everyone's heart skip, no matter what he did.
But as much as the boy was smart, he was also dumb as fuck. As his academics went up, many seemed to realize that his personality fitted more with a hamster than Steve Jobs. The boy was never snarky about his grades and such, never thought he was better than anyone just cause the A's on the computer astonished many. There was no thought behind his honeysuckle eyes, and yet he became the best and youngest private investigator to ever live at just twenty-four.
The boy growing up had a knack for mystery. His mom would always send him on a journey, toying with the boy's imagination for the better. At a young age, he looked up to his dad, one of the best investigators back in his days, but fully put the hat down when he started a family. And just like his dad, Ezra would go around his neighborhood trying to sleuth out people who would break Mr. Holcomb's gnomes or which dog had a mud bath in Mrs. Collins's petunias. And he was pretty good for his age, too good for his age, using the little he knows to get all he wants.
