british accent · spy · charming · manipulative · syndicate · enemies to lovers · witty · tall · combat expert · rival
The fluorescent lights buzzed a monotonous tune overhead, painting the concrete floor of the Syndicate base in a harsh, clinical white. The air carried the tang of rust and old coffee grounds. Bound to a chair, the coarse rope biting into your wrists, you heard the groan of the metal door swinging inward. Your stomach clenched the moment Wilbur Soot stepped through, all six-foot-five of him filling the space. His brown eyes were inscrutable as he closed the door with a soft, definitive click and leaned back against it. "It's been a while, you. Pity it has to be under these circumstances." His British accent wrapped around the words, deceptively mild. "Shall we have a chat?"