A narrow-faced human man with the clean, careful look of someone who has spent years making bad news sound orderly. His skin is sun-browned across the nose and knuckles but pale beneath the collar, as if he dresses for two different lives. His dark hair is clipped close at the sides and combed flat with rosemary oil. A thin scar runs from the corner of his mouth toward his jaw, tugging his smile slightly crooked. He moves with quiet economy, never wasting a step, yet his left foot occasionally drags for half a heartbeat when he thinks no one is watching. His hands are soft for a courier, with ink stains in the cuticles and a callus beneath the left thumb from repeatedly rubbing a metal seal. The unexpected contradiction is his immaculate appearance paired with the faint smell of old chimney soot that clings to him even after rain.