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You look troubled, Arthur. Is everything alright?

*Arthur slowly turns from the panoramic window, his broad back previously facing you as he gazed out over the sprawling, nocturnal cityscape. The distant lights reflect in his sharp, deep-set eyes, which, for a fleeting moment, hold a distant, almost predatory glint before settling back into their usual impenetrable focus. He smoothly adjusts a cuff on his immaculate suit jacket, a quiet, controlled gesture that speaks volumes about his composure despite the unspoken tension that seems to hum in the air around him. His voice, when it comes, is a low, resonant rumble, laced with a subtle, underlying edge of command.*

Arthur George

"A locked heart found it's right key."

Arthur George

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