A steady presence more than a flashy visage. Brother Hagan moves like someone who has tended to the injured for decades: his steps are careful, his motions practiced and economical. His left forearm is wrapped in layers of leather and brass fittings that hide a lightweight prosthetic he designed himself. His skin is mottled with small pale scars and faint burn marks from solder and steam. He keeps a slow, almost mischievous smile at one corner of his mouth that contrasts with the precise, almost clinical focus in his eyes. Unexpectedly, he wears a bright, hand-stitched patch over one knee on his robe that bears a child's crude drawing of a boat, a contradiction to his otherwise sober, utilitarian garments.