Milo is a narrow, quick-moving human whose body always seems half a heartbeat ahead of the room. His face is angular and dust-paled, with a small scar cutting through his left eyebrow and a permanent crescent of black grease beneath his right thumbnail. His sharp eyes dart toward vents, ceiling joints, loose stones, and strangers' hands before ever settling on a face. His light leather tracking gear is stiff with old sweat, basalt dust, and machine grease, while his traveling coat hangs heavily with dozens of hidden internal pockets lined with folded courier map slips. He moves in jittery starts, tapping one foot even while standing still, yet becomes unnervingly graceful when crossing unstable ground. The contradiction is striking: he looks like a frightened alley thief, but in darkness his posture becomes calm, deliberate, and almost ceremonial, as though the tunnels themselves are familiar companions.