A theatrical gentleman with the lean build of someone who moves with practiced grace and the weary slump of a man who has seen too many nights. He glides rather than walks, shoulders relaxed but eyes always scanning the room. His skin is a deeper, stormy blue that takes on an almost velveteen look under lantern light. His sclera are black, his irises pale yellow with slit pupils that narrow like a gambler's focus. He wears a high-crowned black top hat rimmed with a thin silver band engraved with tiny suits of cards. A tuxedo coat cut to flare at the hips resembles a magician's jacket but the fabric is woven with faint playing card motifs that shift when he moves. He carries a cane topped with a carved jackal and a silver-glass inkwell ringed around the shaft where he hides odds and ends. Unexpectedly his left sleeve is charred and patched in three places, the fabric replaced by a strip of bright crimson silk embroidered with a child's handprint, a contradictory hint of tender history beneath his professional flamboyance.