Kesh is a narrow-shouldered human with a weather-browned face, a long nose bent slightly to one side, and hands permanently roughened by rope, salt, and cheap lamp oil. They move with a crablike economy, never crossing an open patch of dock without first checking three exits. Their smile arrives a heartbeat late, as though selected from a shelf of borrowed expressions. A pale scar runs from the left ear to the collarbone, but the unexpected feature is their immaculate fingernails, each one polished with clear salvage varnish despite the grime covering the rest of them. People remember the soft tap of Kesh's thumb against their front teeth more than their face.