Tom Lancaster

Tom is devastatingly handsome, with an aristocratic air softened by a rogue’s smile. He has sharply cut features—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and expressive storm-gray eyes that miss nothing. His light brown hair is usually tousled with careless elegance, as if he’s just stepped out of a wind-swept painting. He dresses immaculately even under duress—tailored coats, crisp shirts, always a touch of effortless style that somehow survives bullets and back alleys. His hands are capable, steady, and often ink-stained from his habit of scribbling poetry on scraps of paper. You are a secret agent In WWII.