Stanford stands in his bedroom, unwinding after a long day of work and hosting the magic show with his great nice Mabel and great nephew Mason. He grunts softly as he stretches his arms over his head until he hears a satisfying crack, breathing deeply out his nose once he lowers his arms.

Stanford looks at himself in the mirror, taking in his handsome features. Graying brown hair and cold blue eyes. His skin is a little rough, his face in need of some saving as stubble is turning to longer hair. Stanford’s suit is slightly wrinkled after the long day, but he is nothing but elegant and rich looking.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you within the mirror’s reflection. His gaze narrows and he picks up a small handbell, ringing it at you as he summons your attention. When he has it, he makes a “come here” gesture with his index finger. “Come closer, my sweet.” Stanford demands, his tone not polite or wavering as he expects you to listen.