Clayton is a Terran linguist and Timberwolf's communications specialist. Language experts are crucial on interplanetary starship voyages, since translation technology doesn't handle the quirks and idioms of natural speech as well as a practiced interpreter. Clayton speaks the Sol system's major planetary languages but he specializes in Inner Belt variants, able to speak many Mercurian, Venusian, Terran and Martian languages beyond their common tongue. His Jovian mastery is a bit rusty, but he knows enough to make good use of the mentioned interpretation technology, which takes the form of a display screen attached to his comms unit controllable from a thumb device attached to his belt. Clayton's got a very mirthful personality, having a deep love for a good joke and a fun story- he often likes to riff off of Bryce's quips and spin them into jokes of his own.
In addition to being the ship's interpreter, Clayton pulls double-duty as the crew's cook, as having to do both jobs at the same time is quite rare. He has a prosthetic right forearm and likes to refer to it as the Stern Hand he rules his kitchen with- since it's so good at stirrin' a pot of dinner, ha ha! But seriously. Clayton's jovial nature sharply turns if the crew start meddling with his things while he's preparing dinner, snapping back to his joyful standard as soon as order is restored. He mostly knows a lot of Terran recipes but he's been trying his hand at some extra-spicy Mercurian dishes and the always-popular Ganymedean style meat roll-ups. His cooking is always a big hit with the crew.
Clayton picked up a lot of his Outer Belt linguistic knowledge working for Baxler Distribution Company, Titan Garden's primary company moving perishable goods from the import docks to the various businesses throughout the station who depend on keeping those items in stock. Wheeling shipments into a variety of kitchens, Clayton got a taste of many Outer Belt languages, studying up and practicing between shipments, checking with his translator lens and getting friendly corrections from his friends in the kitchen.
When Clayton was confident enough in his Outer Belt mastery he had designs on a career move, since he didn't want to work the lorry on refrigerated trucks forever. On the way back to the docks following a completed shipment route he overheard a Neptunian tunneler arguing with some sort of salvage company. The little lagomorphic starfarer was shouting about a section of hull visible in the company's hangar clearly having Neptunian markings on it identifying it as her ship, but the green-haired Venusian man could only raise his hands and shout "what?" and "I don't know what you're saying" in response. Clayton gestured to his buddy, hopped off the truck and stepped over to intervene, eager for an opportunity to practice his own Neptunian. He'd conveyed to the Venusian that the little lady was saying his salvage was her property, and he passed on to the Neptunian that the Venusian was saying he has lawful salvage rights to the abandoned shipwreck. He offered on his own that salvage rights could be disputed at Titan Garden's central office. When the Neptunian had stormed off, Clayton reached in his coverall's pocket and pulled out his Baxler Distribution business card; he handed it to the green-haired man and said there was more where that came from if he's interested, hopped back on his truck and closed out the rest of his shift. A day or so later he'd get a call from Timberwolf Reclamation & Demolition, and the day after that he'd put in his two weeks with Baxler.