Her eyes widened slightly at the mention of his name, just enough to go unnoticed by someone who wasn’t paying close attention. “You? Are the Lord Spencer? You’ll have to forgive me, but up until now I had just assumed that you were a myth fabricated by the higher-ups of this company. An omnipotent ghost, not a…” She let her eyes wander up and down his person, “tall and very handsome young man.”
Of course she had heard of the infamous Oswell Spencer. He was one of the three original founders of Umbrella, a pioneer in the pharmaceutical industry, sometimes called the Father of Virology. She had read about him in her textbooks back when she was still in school, never had she anticipated to one day be face to face with… a man who was probably pulling her leg. Something seemed off, if she remembered correctly Spencer would have been in his early 80’s now. There was no way the young gentleman before her was the same Lord Spencer she was thinking of.
“I suppose I could allow you to do that,” Excella let a playful smirk pull at her lips. “Please lead the way, Lord Spencer.”
His lips pressed together, concealing a chuckle that threatened to burst out. Oh, such a reaction, every time he met someone of any worth— it was rather priceless to witness her gawking at him. “Yes, I am him. As for myths, well, I cannot exactly stop those from forming. The company keeps its secrets well guarded.” Many, many secrets, in fact. But he would not let that be known, not just yet. He could practically feel her undressing him with her eyes, and it only boosted his ego— however, unlike Wesker, he kept his to reasonable proportions.
Like the old-fashioned gentleman he truly was, his arm linked through hers and— to the stares of some of his employees (which he quickly ended with an icy glance in return) the Italian woman was led away, towards one of many pristine glass elevators which would lead to the lower levels where the labs were, and the upper levels— where the executive offices would be situated. His own was on the 13th floor. Symbolic? Perhaps. Once they were inside, he pressed the button to close the elevator doors and fixated his piercing gaze upon her form, continuing to respond to her earlier statements.
He would speak in a low, smooth murmur with a pronounced British accent, dripping from between his lips like intoxicating honey, “I had, with the help of a rather wonderful colleague— who is now deceased, unfortunately— developed a serum. Immortality is not impossible, and injected it into my bloodstream. I am, in fact, in my early eighties, but— it did its job quite well. The public knows me to be the original Spencer’s successor, but…well.”
Excella eyed the vast lobby in her peripheral vision as he led her to the elevator. It was a nice enough building, she supposed. Everything looked clean and professional, exactly what you'd expect from a pharmaceutical company; but the tall glass windows and white furnishings reminded her too much of a hospital. At least the Tricell lobbies had a sense of style, she mused.
She kept a gentle smile on her lips while Spencer spoke, his voice was just as mellifluous, if not more, than Albert's. This made her smile a little wider. Was this the pharmaceutical executive type? Dashing and brilliant men with intoxicating voices? If so all of the stuffy old businessmen from Nina Travis' days at Tricell could have fooled Excella.
"Impressive. Although I'm not surprised. I wrote my senior thesis based off of your work when I was qualifying for my degree in genetic engineering. The work you did with Marcus and Ashford is legendary in our community." She nearly purred the last sentence.
