Remi is a man who looks as though he has been partially fried by his own product. He has a sturdy, square-jawed face perpetually smeared with graphite and oil. His most striking feature is his hair, which stands in a perpetual frizzy halo due to decades of static exposure. He moves with a heavy, rhythmic gait, his boots clacking like clockwork on the factory floor. Despite his rough exterior, his hands are remarkably steady and delicate when handling small wires. He carries a constant scent of ozone and stale chicory coffee.