Portly with a perpetually flushed face, Barbin moves with surprising grace for his stout figure, as if used to dancing between crowded shop aisles and enchanted shelves. His soft gray beard is meticulously braided with tiny copper bells that jingle faintly — a light contrast to his usually stern, bright amber eyes, which sparkle with both curiosity and cautious calculation. His hands are perpetually ink-stained from scrolls and arcane notes, yet he has an oddly rugged scar running from his left temple to his cheekbone, hinting at a past adventure that jars with his genteel trade. When he walks, his robes rustle like wind through dry leaves, an unexpected rust-colored patch woven into his velvet tunic that looks out of place amid his otherwise deep blues and purples.