A nice guy with an almost supernatural talent for making the most disastrous choice possible, Hamilton Hecht bounced from Boston to New York to Chicago before landing in Los Angeles. Marking time in various courts as a jester and storyteller even as he marked time in the theatrical profession working dinner productions of "The King and I", Hecht's big brainstorm came as he worked at a burger joint with two other actors, a screenwriter, and a double major in English and Dance who worked nights as a street mime. There were dozens of unemployed actors better than he was, all looking for an edge, so he would find an edge to sell them. He finally settled on "acting lessons" as the edge in question and, using the contacts in the arts he'd gleaned from skulking around the court of Caer Angeles, acquired enough queries from potential students to hang out his shingle.
Just as there were better actors in LA, though, there were better acting coaches, and Hamal, as the fae knew him, was forced to survive on a bottom-feeder's market. Desperate, he worked his court contacts as hard as he could and garnered an invitation to one of the times High King David would be holding court. It was there that he met Queen Aeron of Pacifica and, giving the performance of his life, quite literally charmed the pants off of her.
Even as the queen swooned for him, Hamal realized the magnitude of the opportunity before him. He quickly relocated to the San Francisco area, installing himself in the Royal Apartments less than a week after his arrival. This shocked the bluenoses of the court to no end, but they were in no position to deny Her Majesty anything.
Even as he settled in, though, Hamal noticed how hard Aeron was working and how little visible return she was getting for her efforts. Motivated by a wholesome concern for his lover's health, as well as a fair bit of slightly less wholesome lust, he urged her to work less and let things take care of themselves. Surprisingly, Aeron agreed and the situation snowballed out of control into near-total abdication of her responsibilities. Now the satyr is trapped into reinforcing the cycle which he began, afraid that should he rouse Aeron from her sensual miasma, she would remove him as a matter of policy. For the moment, his fear of losing his meal ticket is stronger than his concern for anyone or anything else.
Hamal is not so much handsome as cute, with an appealing disheveled look. In mortal seeming he's almost six feet tall, carrying about five extra pounds, and green-eyed. Fond of dressing in black (black shoes, black shirt, black socks, black pants, and black briefs), he'll spend up to half an hour artfully mussing his hair each morning.
In fae mien, he is still a devotee of the all black look, with flounces and robes going in every which direction. He belts all of this with a scarlet sash, the only stripe of color in his entire wardrobe. His curly hair darkens several shades, almost to black as well, and the green of his eyes brightens. He can never sit still and is constantly twitching, bouncing, and looking for new amusements to occupy any spare second he has lying around.
Hamal is a poster child for Attention Deficit Disorder and this sentence is probably too time-consuming for him to finish. He had a great opportunity, getting involved with the queen, but things have gotten out of control and he doesn't see a way out that isn't going to be extremely painful. He fidgets frequently and, if he thinks he can get away with it, blusters with his unofficial court position. He feels completely isolated, insulated as he is at Caer Redwood with the Aeron, and would be more than amenable to sneaking off with a sympathetic band of commoners for some good old-fashioned carousing.