Geoffrey moves with a calculated, almost surgical grace, like a man unused to wasting movement. His sharp gaze scans constantly, eyes darting with subtle yet relentless focus. His face is clean-shaven, except for a thin scar tracing from his right temple down to his cheekbone, a souvenir from a past case. His once-dark hair is flecked prematurely with silver strands, combed back but often escaping into loose rebellious wisps. Despite the austerity of his official uniform, an old, worn leather pocket watch chain dangles conspicuously from his vest—a curious relic of happier times. Contradictorily, though he is typically grim, a fleeting warmth can sometimes crack the hard lines of his expression, especially when speaking of a case’s forgotten victims.