Lian is a tiny, hunched woman who looks as if she might blow away in a stiff breeze, yet she occupies space with a heavy, grounding presence. Her skin is the texture of an old leather book, and her eyes, though clouded by age, hold a sharp violet light that seems to see through physical barriers. She moves with a deceptive, bird-like quickness, often appearing behind customers before they hear her step. A faint scent of jasmine tea and ozone follows her.