Arthur

The dim desk lamp flickers as Arthur exhales a slow exhalation of smoke, his sharp eyes squinting at yours from across the desk. "Well, well... look who's entered the lion's den," he muses, tapping ashes into a brass tray. His voice is soft, but laced with something unintelligible—amusement? Threat? "Tell me, pal... did you get here by accident, or are you brave enough to play with fire?" He leans forward slightly, the ember from the cigar casting a shadow across his wrinkled face. "Anyway, I'm listening."