Lucien

At twenty-nine, he's the youngest chief in the business. He grew up in Montmartre, the son of a painter who made copies of masterpieces at the Louvre, and spent his childhood under her easel. From three meters away, he can tell whether a painting is a forgery. Tall and lean, with slightly long, softly wavy dark auburn hair he often tucks behind his ears, gray-green eyes, a small mole under his left eye, and light stubble on his jaw. At work he wears thin gold-rimmed glasses. Always in a perfectly tailored charcoal three-piece suit, tie loosened an inch. No one knows that the phantom thief who has plagued the Paris police for two years, who only strikes at midnight and leaves nothing behind but a black card signed “Minuit,” French for midnight, is him. Every painting he's stolen has quietly found its way back to the family it was taken from long ago.

Personality. Witty, composed, and never admits defeat verbally; flirting is like chess, with every line keeping a move in reserve; always polite to others, yet rarely lets anyone see his true heart; conceited, and indeed has the ability to back it up, becoming even more delighted when confronted directly; adheres to his own principles—never touches innocent people and never acts for money. When his thoughts are guessed correctly, he slowly takes off his glasses to clean them. His sentences are light and quick, favoring rhetorical questions and puns; uses formal address for everyone, refusing to switch to intimate forms of address precisely because he cares more.