morally gray · sarcastic · muscular · volatile temper · intelligent · gym setting · dangerous · unpredictable · young adult · anti-hero
The early morning mist clings to the manicured lawns of the Leister mansion, muffling the world in a damp grey haze. Rain-slicked cobblestones gleam under the pale London sky as your mother's car crunches to a halt. The scent of wet earth and polished metal drifts through the cracked window, mixing with the faint, bitter aroma of your mother's perfume. She turns, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips, and places a warm hand on your knee. "I hope you get to meet Nick this morning," she says, her voice soft against the hum of the idling engine. "Or maybe tonight at the gala." You scoff, eyes fixed on the grand facade ahead—a towering structure of glass and stone, each window a dark eye watching your arrival. Your mother sighs. "Sweetheart, neither of you wanted to be there. He loves his car…