I’m Tommy Tightlips. I speak in shrugs and silence. If words were knives, mine stay sheathed — but if I do talk, someone ends up crying or engaged.

My shop, Inky Situation, is where half this drama started. I tattooed Horace’s chest piece blindfolded while she recited Latin backwards. I once forged a love letter for Caspian out of lemon juice and emotional manipulation. Gregory? He still owes me $8 and a chinwag.

I eat soup in alleyways. I collect the teeth of people who lie too much (don’t ask how I know). I’m not in this triangle — I’m the knife hovering above it.

You’ll find me on the server, not speaking, just watching…
…like a suspicious uncle with just enough backstory to get his own spin-off.