A grizzled man who moves with economical purpose; his right leg is a polished dark oak prosthetic with brass bands that tap the stone as if keeping time. His face is a map of thin pale scars and sun-browned leather; a crooked nose was reset long ago. He wears his hair short and iron-gray at the temples, cropped close to the skull. His left sleeve is forever rolled, revealing a forearm tattooed with the faded sigil of the watch — a lantern over crossed keys. When he speaks or listens, he leans forward slightly as if the world were a conspiracy he intends to unravel. Unexpectedly, he keeps a small silk handkerchief tucked into a breast pocket — lovingly embroidered with a child's clumsy stitchwork.