Sóleyra is easy to overlook until she speaks. She has a youthful, symmetrical face with light olive skin, a narrow jaw, a thin straight nose, and a restrained smile that suggests she has already found the inconsistency in the room. Her bright blue-grey eyes are sharp and calculating, yet unexpectedly warm, with a brief glint of mischief when someone tries to deceive her. Her black hair is cut short and kept so precisely that it resembles a polished cap. She stands perfectly upright and moves with economical, nearly silent efficiency, turning corners without brushing shelves or people. Her long fingers are clean but subtly roughened across the pads from years of sorting paper, pressing seals, and repairing bindings. The contradictory detail is her left cuff, which is repeatedly mended with vivid saffron thread that clashes with her otherwise severe wardrobe. The repair was made by someone she loves, and she refuses to replace it.