Rags has the cool of a con man, the heart of a lover, and the average consciousness of a dormouse. He would probably be charming and suave if he could stop falling asleep. In fact, his scattered instances of awakeness are so heartbreakingly cute that he would certainly be irresistable over a longer period of time.

The problem is that Rags suffers from chronic exhaustion. No one knows whether this is a general punitive measure or the direct result of some misdemeanor in life, as he'd rather not discuss it.

Most everyone seems to get along with Rags, as far as it can be said. The only exception is Louie; Rags snaps at him in a way that would suggest they knew each other in life, and Louie... well, it depends on who's watching. Otherwise, the others are very kind to Rags, and he repays them with devotion in his every waking moment.

"Okay." Rags looked up with undisguised adoration in his eyes. "Fran, you're the nicest person I've ever met. Nicer than anyone in the whole world." His voice trembled a little. "I'll bet you're... you're almost like the Blessed Lady. And I mean it, Fran."