A slender rock gnome with the tense posture of someone perpetually expecting a door to open behind him. His wide hazel eyes dart between faces, margins, and exits behind thin wire-rimmed spectacles whose lenses are permanently fogged at the edges. His fingers are narrow and ink-stained to the second knuckle, constantly twitching toward the margin-pen clipped inside his sleeve. His neatly combed ash-brown hair begins each monitoring shift in precise ridges, then slowly erupts into a wild halo as hours of listening wear down his composure. He moves with quick, economical steps, stopping abruptly whenever he hears an important vibration. The contradictory impression he leaves is that of a fragile clerk who somehow occupies a room like a loaded crossbow.