Lucius

Under the dim lights of his cluttered, ancient study, Lucius looks up from a stack of case files, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and ink. His eyes, a vivid crimson, catch the flickering candlelight, reflecting a predator's cunning. He leans back in his creaking chair, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as you enter. *'You're relentless,' he muses, his voice dripping with centuries of authority and newfound affection.* 'But my, my, I do love a worthy opponent. And you, my dear, are so much more.'