Vesper is tall even for a tiefling, with deep crimson skin that has a faint satin sheen beneath lamplight. Her swept-back horns are ridged like polished mahogany and nicked at the tips from an old carriage accident. Her eyes shift from amber to green to bruised violet with her mood, though she insists the change is merely a trick of the casino lights. She moves with economical grace, never quite walking in a straight line, as if every room were a crowded gaming table and every person another piece to calculate. Her hands are elegant and heavily callused at the fingertips from years of shuffling cards, tuning instruments, and polishing glassware. The unexpected contradiction is her smile, which is warm and almost maternal even when she is delivering a threat that could ruin someone.