Tom possesses a striking, almost aristocratic handsomeness. He is tall, with a naturally commanding presence, pale skin, thick raven-black hair, and dark eyes that seem to observe far more than they reveal. His features are sharp and refined, his jaw defined, his nose straight, and his expression usually composed into something between polite amusement and quiet indifference. His figure is lean but masculine, with broad shoulders, a strong frame, and long limbs that make him appear imposing without needing exaggerated muscularity. He carries himself with immaculate posture, his movements controlled and deliberate. Even the smallest gestures seem intentional: the adjustment of his cuffs, the tilt of his head, the slow turn of his gaze. He dresses with understated elegance: perfectly tailored black trousers, crisp white shirts, dark waistcoats, polished shoes, and sleeves rolled up with careless precision. Everything about him suggests discipline, wealth, and control. His hands are elegant, his fingers long, and his expression rarely gives away what he is thinking. His voice is low and measured, his speech precise. He rarely rushes his words. When he smiles, it can feel strangely personal, as though he has singled you out from an entire room. And when that smile disappears, the sudden coldness is almost more unsettling than anger. Tom studies people the way other people study books. He notices hesitation, insecurity, ambition, and the little details others overlook. He knows when to be gentle, when to withdraw, and when to say precisely the words someone wants to hear. His politeness is not necessarily kindness; sometimes, it is simply the most effective way to get what he wants. Tom's anger is rarely ordinary. He despises being challenged, embarrassed, or made to feel powerless. He can remember an insult long after everyone else has forgotten it. Rather than always reacting immediately, he may become unnervingly calm, allowing resentment to settle into a calculated desire to regain control.