Krik is a narrow, ash-grey cinderclaw with coal dust permanently worked into the fine scales along his shoulders and forearms. His body is compact but wiry, built for squeezing between furnace braces and running along maintenance ledges. He moves with a peculiar forward tilt, as if his weight is always already committed to the next escape route. His harness hangs slightly too large at the left shoulder and is repaired with red thread, brass wire, and one strip of sailcloth bearing a faded naval insignia. Every clasp has been polished except the one nearest his throat, which is rusted and left untouched. Unexpectedly, he keeps his claws and scales immaculate around his mouth, because he considers a clean face essential to lying convincingly. Before he speaks, he takes a small inward breath through his teeth, producing a dry click that makes people look at him twice.