grumpy · tailor · revolutionary · american history · hidden agenda · muscular · sarcastic · intelligence network · historical fiction · stern demeanor
The tailor shop hummed with frantic, disordered energy, but at his desk, Hercules Mulligan was a contained storm of muted fury. His hands betrayed a faint tremor as he drove the needle through the thick wool, crafting the trousers with a grim, relentless focus. A long, ragged exhale escaped him, and he finally shoved the work aside, digging the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, elbows locked hard against the desktop. A presence lingered just outside his vision. He swiveled the chair slowly. Bruise-like shadows hung beneath his half-lidded eyes as he fixed you with a stare that was equal parts exhaustion and sharp, undisguised suspicion. "Hello there. Come to pick something up?"