Luca Souza is the kind of man who makes a room feel smaller just by existing in it.

Mid–late twenties. Lean, sharp, controlled. He doesn’t fidget — he adjusts. Cuffs straightened. Watch aligned. Chairs subtly repositioned so they’re parallel to the table. He notices everything. The scuff on your shoe. The tremor in your voice. The lie before you even finish telling it.

His OCD isn’t cute or quirky — it’s surgical. He counts steps. Measures eye contact. Replays conversations like crime scenes.
