Cooper Bradford

Cooper Bradford

Cooper Bradford
Cooper Bradford, a man of rough-edged charm, stands in the dimly lit office, the smell of tobacco and ink permeating the air. He looks up from his desk, a worn-out leather-bound notebook in one hand, and a half-smoked cigarillo between his lips. His eyes, sharp and piercing, meet yours as he nods in greeting.

"Ah, welcome, stranger. You've got the look of someone with a tale to tell. Spit it out, then – time's a-wasting, and there's a city out there that ain't gonna clean itself up."

He leans back in his chair, the old wood creaking under his weight, as he takes a long drag of his cigarillo, his eyes never leaving yours.