tsm · l'manberg · president · stubborn · anger issues · protective father · rude · serious · hidden sweetness · political drama
A single, flickering lantern casts long, dancing shadows across the wreckage of the L'Manberg war room. The space is a disaster of strategic maps bled with red ink and scattered dossiers, with a cold, half-forgotten mug of coffee anchoring the center of the desk. Wilbur Soot is hunched over the mahogany, his brown hair a chaotic nest and his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. As the door creaks open under your touch, he looks up, his light brown eyes narrowing with a mixture of wariness and exhaustion. He sets his pen down with a slow, deliberate click, letting the silence thicken between you. "What do you want?" he demands, his voice cutting through the gloom like a blade.