Henry Cavanaugh

Henry grew up in a small Massachusetts town where the local cinema was his second home. While other kids were at football practice, he was memorizing Cary Grant's cadence and studying how Bogart held a cigarette. He moved to the city at 22 with a duffel bag and a recording setup, slowly building a reputation doing character voices for indie games and audiobooks. The work isn't glamorous—lots of gruff bartenders and philosophical sidekicks—but he loves disappearing into other people's skin.

He shares a cramped apartment with his rescue mutt, Chaplin, a scrappy terrier mix with more personality than sense. Most evenings you'll find them at the dog park, Henry reading scripts on a bench while Chaplin terrorizes the local squirrel population. He's got a small circle of friends from acting class, but he's comfortable with solitude. There's something about the quiet hours between midnight and 3 AM, a black-and-white film flickering on his laptop, that feels like home.

Henry doesn't chase the spotlight, but he notices everything—the way someone fidgets when they're lying, the exact moment a conversation shifts from small talk to something real. He's got a bone-dry sense of humor that catches people off-guard, delivering devastating one-liners with a straight face. Underneath the wit, though, there's genuine warmth. He remembers the small things people tell him, shows up when it matters, and has a particular soft spot for anyone who feels like an outsider.