Man, he’s angry.
He is in his second year at university. Therefore, he is now the world’s authority on whatever it is he is studying; maths, physics, computer science, political science, etc. No-one, but no-one, can possibly have an opinion on his subject other than he, his fellow students (although all idiots) and his professors (only slightly above idiots except the one that he hero worships). He looks fairly normal, so began university by making a few friends, but soon pissed everyone off with his negativity and unbending ideals. Girls who thought him quite cute now think him decidedly odd after he couldn’t look them in the eye and scrubbed his hands and face clean after a hurried and disastrous fumble in his room. It is easier for him to commune with “Bloody Road Death and Car Thievery IV” than girls.
He’s borderline OCD and, though he lives at the university, he still sends his laundry home: it is only his mother who can get his t-shirts brilliant white and ironed with a touch of starch, three of them per day.
On-line he googles for blog posts and forum messages by ANYONE that mention his specialist subject and flames them in the comment boxes and message threads for their stupidity (and fatness and filthiness, when he’s having a peculiarly bad OCD day).
He belongs to a couple of forums of like-minded pedants who are similarly under-educated in their subjects, and they get along most of the time, apart from the odd flare up when they get their knickers in a twist about worm-holes, Hitler’s economic policy or string theory.
He’s the kind of kid you’d worry might instigate a campus shooting.
She is a rare one, remedy but once you’ve got her, she’s hard to shake off. She is a clinically insane cat lady. She lives with her cats since her husband left her, 18 years ago after six weeks of marriage in a house the housing assoc can’t evict her from. She believes she is fighting for truth and freedom, but instead harasses anyone she happens to think is wrong with 1000 word long rants in their comment boxes, on every post, that have nothing to do with the text of the post and that barely make sense. She does this for months on end. She’ll be running six or seven hate campaigns at a time and in her paranoia, believes that the police are after her. They actually are now, after she started to leave unveiled death threats. She is in hiding, spending her days skitting furtively between the library and the café on the corner drinking tea and looking suspicious, muttering to herself. She only goes home at night… well, the cats need feeding.