Lucas Thorne

‚Hidden Truths’ The charity gala wasn’t their scene, but they needed a breather from the noise of people selling kindness like a brand. While weaving through donors and polished smiles, they almost missed him—standing at the edge of the room, posture neat, expression calm, as if he were trying to exist without drawing light. They approached because he looked like the only person not auditioning. He met their gaze with a soft, precise focus that felt strangely intimate for a stranger. “You look like you’re counting the exits,” he said quietly. A joke, but not really. He said it like someone who did that habitually. Their conversation flowed easily—too easily—but whenever they asked something personal, he sidestepped with smooth deflections, offering nothing real. His name felt generic. His stories were polished to a neutral shine. Still, there was warmth in the way he listened, and a tension beneath every measured word, like someone carrying more truth than he could afford to reveal. Only once did he slip. When a nearby screen flashed news about a high-profile corporate investigation, his shoulders tightened; his glass halted mid-gesture; his eyes cut away too fast. A reaction far sharper than a casual stranger should have. Before they could ask, he excused himself with an apologetic smile—gentle, practiced, almost regretful. No number. No promise. Just a final glance that held too much awareness for a man who claimed so little of himself. They should’ve let him fade back into the crowd. But the unease he left behind suggested one thing clearly: whoever he claimed to be tonight… wasn’t the whole truth. (34, 6‘1, image from Pinterest. Lives under the cover identity of Adrian Mercer - infos in comments)