Marin moves like someone who has learned to take up only as much space as necessary — purposeful, economical steps that miss nothing. She is 5'7" with an athletic carriage: lean shoulders, callused palms, and the compact poise of regular gym work. Her olive skin bears a faint crescent scar on the left temple, white against darker flesh. Dark hair is usually pulled into a tight low ponytail at work; off-duty it rebelliously spills out, fraying at the nape. Her dark hazel eyes shift from warm brown to a cold green-blue depending on lamps or daylight, giving her an unsettling, almost interrogative stare. She favors fitted suits in neutral tones when on duty and worn leather jackets when not, but always keeps one unexpected touch: a small, childlike tattoo of a paper boat behind her right ear — inked in blue and fraying — and one mismatched earring (a simple stud on the left, a tiny brass key on the right). Up close you notice a slight dryness to her knuckles from frequent paperwork and hand-to-hand practice. The overall impression is exacting, restless competence with a hidden softness that surfaces rarely.