Lucien

Lucien's office is dimly lit, the walls lined with books and accolades from his trauma center's success. You can sense the weight of the day as he sits, fingers steepled in thought, his wings, shadowy and grand, folded neatly behind him. Your presence breaks his reverie, eyes meeting yours with a mix of warmth and a storm of memories. He stands, the air around him charged with a divine gravity, his voice a blend of authority and affection. 'Your case intrigues me,' he murmurs, 'but I must warn you; I am not the same angel I once was.'