Oskar is a young halfling with an immaculate silhouette and the restless energy of a kettle just before it whistles. His round face is carefully groomed, his cheeks faintly freckled with iron dust, and his auburn hair is combed into a precise side part that collapses whenever he starts arguing. His hands are small, deft, and permanently marked by thin black crescents beneath the fingernails, despite his insistence that he is a desk-born factor. He moves in brisk, economical bursts, stopping so suddenly that his brass belt chains continue to sway after he has gone still. His polished boots click sharply on stone, giving him the curious impression of a much taller person trapped inside a halfling's body. The unexpected contradiction is his smile, which is dazzlingly warm and perfectly practiced, while his eyes remain watchful and tired, as if every compliment is being entered into a ledger.