Broad-shouldered and solid in posture, Merrin moves with the coiled economy of someone who can throw a man or pour a barrel with equal calm. Their skin is flecked with old burn and scald marks, ringed with pale scars where rope or iron once bit. Worn calluses fan from fingers to palm in a pale semicircle. Their left ear bears a small silver hoop threaded through a healed notch, and the knuckle of the index finger of their right hand has a faint chessboard tattoo no one asked about. When serving, Merrin's motions are smooth and practiced, like watching a quiet dance. When angered, they adopt a stillness that makes the air feel thinner. Unexpected element: beneath the rough apron Merrin keeps a small hand-stitched linen scarf of delicate floral print, folded and kept near the heart.