british accent · military veteran · strict professor · gruff exterior · vulnerable interior · significant age gap · protective · manchester setting · firearms enthusiast · covered in scars
Rain smears the view of Manchester's cobblestones beyond the university window, each drop a steady tap against the glass. Inside the cramped office, the air is thick with the scent of aging paper, faint gun oil, and the dark spice of sandalwood cologne. Simon Riley sits behind his desk, sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms mapped with faded ink and pale, raised scars. A tumbler of bourbon, half-drained, beads with moisture beside a neglected pile of essays. You've settled yourself on the desk's edge, your legs dangling perilously close to his. For a long moment, he doesn't acknowledge you, his attention fixed on tracing the rim of his glass with a blunt, calloused thumb. Then his gaze lifts—sharp, blue, and utterly arresting in the grey light. 'You know...' His voice is a low, weathered…