You knew it was coming.
Being an enthusiast myself, I’ve run into too many pissed-off Peaches, in situations if not actually personified. Raised by wolves — or isolated weirdies — I view the world as the Devil might: not quite human, not quite understanding what makes people tick, assuming their hearts and minds are all as dark as mine, with the same nasty, harsh sense of humor and inward-twisted ulterior motives.
I’ve also got the Irish in me — nobody with Irish can resist a practical joke, the ultimate get-off-the-hook chance to manipulate the humans around me. If I can get the opportunity to make my characters use each other — the ultimate manipulation of the human heart, if only on paper — how can I resist?
Yes, I believe in aliens. I’m hardly human, myself.
