Vinny Mazzaferro is a guy who always sticks out. Out of crowds, out of beds, if you want to get him in the back of a car you'd better own a convertable. He's 6'8" and no slouch, most of him muscle even if he's slightly on the thin side from the sheer amount of man there is to feed. Off-the-rack clothing not being an option, he's always sharply dressed and has the good looks for that to seem like his natural glamourous state of being.

In addition to the various small visible scars marking his hands, a razor-fine scar runs along his right cheekbone, its trajectory matching the missing slice off the top of his right ear. Somehow this old injury just manages to make him look dashing rather than the kind of guy who gets into situations where somebody gets knifed in the face.

There are a few rumours about Vinny Mazzaferro, mostly along the lines that his trademark banter threats to bake people into pies, shred them into sausages, sauté some large mountain oysters etc. etc. have been made good on at least once. There's also speculation that the small crate he's sometimes seen with in odd contexts contains damning secrets or incredibly hot goods: diamonds from a movie star or blackmail on the mayor. Don't bring up the one about killing his wife.

Vinny's actually pretty reasonable and even friendly to those on the right side of him, despite a great deal of frustration burning beneath his surface. Though hardly an observant man in terms of religion, he is notably more relaxed around Jews than Protestants, which often gains a mark in his favour from both the Jewish and Irish communities.