A narrow, immaculate man with the posture of someone who has spent his life standing before people more powerful than himself. His face is long and finely boned, with a small burn scar running from the left corner of his mouth to his jaw like a misplaced ink stroke. He moves slowly in public, each turn deliberate, but when startled he becomes startlingly quick, snapping around with the precision of a striking weasel. His hands are soft-looking until one notices the blackened crescents beneath his fingernails and the old pressure scars across his palms. He leaves behind the impression of polished restraint, though his smile is often warmer than his eyes. The unexpected contradiction is that his expensive formal clothing is meticulously maintained while one battered work boot is always hidden beneath his cloak, repaired with bright red furnace wire.