A man who looks like he could have been carved from the same granite used for the city courthouse, but his eyes keep betraying a softer core. He moves with trained economy, each step measured and quiet. His duty belt sits low on his hips, worn leather polished at the edges from years of use. Under a weathered navy uniform jacket he wears a grey tactical vest with discreet pouches and a faded family patch sewn inside the left hem. His face is a roadmap of small scars, the most noticeable a pale crescent along his right eyebrow. At odd moments he fiddles with a thin brass coin on a chain that rests against his sternum, rubbing the edge as if reading Braille with his thumb. The overall impression is competent and unshakeable, but there is an unexpected, almost apologetic gentleness in his smile when he speaks to children.