A lean tiefling whose movements are quiet, economical, and almost maritime, as though he is always compensating for a deck tilting beneath his feet. His skin is a deep russet brown with a satin sheen from years of salt air, lamp oil, and careful grooming. Small pale speckles gather across his shoulders and the bridge of his nose like dried sea spray. Two swept-back horns rise from his temples, ridged like old ivory and polished at the tips until they catch lamplight. His long tail is unusually expressive, curling around chair legs during negotiations and going perfectly still when he lies. His eyes rarely settle on the person speaking. Instead, they track exits, hands, windows, and the reflections in polished objects. He wears an immaculate smile with one chipped canine that gives his refinement a faintly feral contradiction. His presence leaves the impression of a well-mannered solicitor who might know exactly how to bury a body at sea.