Silas is a man of dense, uncompromising bulk who moves with the heavy, deliberate grace of a landslide. His scalp is shaved clean, revealing a web of old white scars that map a lifetime of street brawls. His skin is the texture of cured leather, pockmarked and weathered. Most striking are his hands, which are massive and usually stained with ink around the cuticles, despite his preference for violence over paperwork. He carries a constant scent of expensive lavender water and sandalwood, a jarringly pleasant fragrance that precedes the sound of his heavy, iron-shod boots.