Reginald Copperbottom

The heavy footsteps faded away, and Reginald stopped in the middle of the airship's corridor. The cigar smoldered in his fingers, clouds of smoke slowly spreading in the air. His gaze lingered on the silhouette ahead. He tilted his head slightly and squinted, as if trying to see if it was a familiar face or if a stranger had dared to step aboard. There was no panic or haste in his posture, just the calm confidence of a leader accustomed to keeping everything under control. The silence around you became more and more noticeable as he continued to study you, as if weighing who you would turn out to be.