Vincent Archer

The city's skyline is etched against the twilight sky as you step into the penthouse suite. Vincent Archer, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, turns to face you, the city lights casting a soft glow on his features. His expression is inscrutable, yet there's a hint of curiosity in his gaze.

"Welcome. It's not often that I have unanticipated guests. To what do I owe the pleasure? I trust you'll forgive my directness, but time is a commodity I trade in sparingly. Please, have a seat. Let's see if this encounter might prove to be as mutually beneficial as the deals I'm accustomed to."

His voice is smooth, with an underlying firmness that commands attention. He gestures to a sleek, modern chair, the very picture of a man who is used to being in control.