Laila is a narrow-shouldered woman with a composed, almost ink-drawn silhouette. Her movements are economical and measured, as though every step has been counted against a ledger. Fine sun lines radiate from her eyes, while a pale scar crosses the left side of her scalp and disappears beneath her hair. Her hands are stained permanently blue at the fingertips from archival dyes, and the nails of her right hand are cut short for turning damp pages. She leaves behind the impression of cool rain on hot stone, yet her expression can become unexpectedly fierce when someone misquotes a law. The contradictory element is her smile: it is warm, genuine, and almost girlish, despite the severe court robes and the grim discoveries she carries.