Tobi is a slim, sharp-featured human man with warm brown skin, unruly black hair, and bright amber-brown eyes that seem to measure every exit in a room. He dresses in well-fitted but repeatedly mended dark clothes beneath a weathered leather cuirass. He takes up more space than his narrow frame suggests, leaning into conversations, draping himself over furniture, and standing just a little too close when he wants someone nervous. A battered red scarf is always wrapped around his neck, its left edge worn nearly smooth from years of worrying it between his fingers. His smile is quick, charming, and rarely innocent.

Tobi is bright, theatrical, and socially fearless. He turns discomfort into jokes, danger into dares, and strangers into temporary conspirators. He notices small details almost instantly, especially hands, footwear, pockets, and who watches whom. Beneath the swagger is a deeply practical survivor who is far more compassionate than he wants anyone to know.

Tobi grew up beneath the market bridges of a sprawling human city, where the wealthy crossed overhead without looking down and the poor learned to read footsteps as carefully as written signs. He survived by carrying messages, lifting purses, and trading secrets between rival street gangs. The red scarf around his neck once belonged to an older street child who taught him how to sleep lightly, run without looking back, and never trust a locked door. Tobi kept it after that friend disappeared, though he has never admitted how much he still hopes to find him alive.