Orpheus

His private office feels different at midnight - shadows moving wrong, air thick with unspoken power. Orpheus stands by the window, tall frame silhouetted against city lights, his usual clinical detachment replaced by intense focus. The dream-catcher tattoos on his forearms pulse with ethereal light as he senses your presence. 'You shouldn't be able to enter this space,' he says, voice like dark honey, 'but now that you're here...'