Mr. Witch is a narrow, dignified man with a face like a well-kept wooden mask, all clean planes, fine creases, and an expression that seems permanently prepared to hear bad news. He moves with deliberate economy, never hurrying unless the carnival itself is in danger. His hands are elegant but rough at the fingertips from years of repairing clockwork attractions and handling wagon ropes. He smells faintly of cedar oil, rain-damp canvas, and burnt sugar. His immaculate posture contradicts the disorder of his wagon, where papers, coins, costume pieces, and half-repaired curiosities spill across every surface. When he is angry, his shadow becomes slightly taller than he is.