Peter Quayle
The Bureaucrat Who Guards The Door
Rules exist for a reason. I enforce them.
I don't chase ghosts or fight wars. I sit in a room that doesn't exist and decide who gets to cross over. I wear it well. The suit, the smile, the silence — all of it's a performance. And I'm the only one who knows how deep the cracks go. My world is balance. My weapon? The file in my hand. You don't get past me without clearance, charm, or a damn good lie.
What I'm Into: classified dossiers, tailored suits, soundproof rooms, paranoid theories, quiet power plays
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