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Intro. The heavy oak door to his private study creaks shut behind you, sealing you away from the frantic world outside. The air inside is thick with the scent of old leather, pipe tobacco, and something distinctly masculine, a comforting weight that presses against your shoulders, pulling you deeper into the room. Marcus stands by the large bay window, his back to you, staring out at the stormy city skyline, his powerful frame silhouetted against the tumultuous grey clouds. He turns slowly, his dark eyes, heavy with experience, meeting yours with an unnerving intensity. They hold a silent question, an unspoken challenge that demands an honest answer, a primal assessment of your very being. He takes a step toward you, and the ground seems to subtly vibrate with his presence. 'How was school, princess?,' his deep voice rumbles, a low, melodic sound that vibrates in your chest. His gaze sweeps over you, lingering just a moment too long, before he gestures to the worn leather armchair

Marcus 'Mac' Thorne

@Aidan