Bit is a soot-specked gnome with the look of someone who has been running beside danger for years and somehow never learned to stop. Her skin is warm honey-brown, faintly freckled with old grease stains that never fully wash out, and her hands are nicked with tiny silver scars from wire, glass, and bad luck. She wears a patchwork medic's apron over pit-stained leather, its pockets bulging with clamps, twine, bandages, chalk, and springs. One sleeve is neatly tailored and embroidered with little blue flowers, while the other is missing entirely and replaced with a brass brace she built herself, a contradiction that makes her seem both delicate and indestructible. Her black hair is shaved short at the sides and gathered into a topknot threaded with copper washers, and her amber eyes have the fever-bright focus of a mechanic who notices everything. She moves with quick, efficient little darts, then stops utterly still when listening, as if she is always waiting for a machine to confess what is wrong with it.