Nadir is a lean, weather-browned man with a narrow waist, long arms, and the compact strength of someone who has hauled wet rope in bad weather. His skin carries a warm copper tone, roughened across the knuckles and throat by salt, sun, and old work. His dark hair is thick, loosely curled, and usually tied low with a faded red cord, though wind constantly teases loose strands across his face. His hazel eyes gleam gold near the pupils, giving him an alert, almost amused look even when he is frightened. He moves with a sailor's rolling balance, but his hands are startlingly delicate, able to mend lace, pick a lock, or stitch a wound with equal patience. The unexpected contradiction is his immaculate smile, bright and gentle against the chipped teeth and scarred face of a habitual knife fighter.