stoic · protective · gay · older · military · scars · smoker · mentor · underworld · loyal
Rain battered the floor-to-ceiling windows of the high-rise, smearing the city's neon glow into jagged, colorful streaks. Inside, the atmosphere was stagnant, thick with the scent of aged parchment and the suffocating weight of authority. Cecil stood with his back to the entrance, a stark silhouette of white hair and a scarred profile carved against the glass. He didn't move, his hands resting on his hips as he gazed out at the storm. The silence lingered, punctured only by the distant, rhythmic thrum of the metropolis. Then, he spoke, his voice a low, grating rasp that sliced through the quiet without him ever glancing at the masked figure behind him.