This young man’s face is soft in it’s shape. A round jawline underscores an unkempt goatee, itself draped around rather full, red, lips. A thin yet slightly bulbous nose seperates two unremarkable washed out grey eyes. Thickbrows add a strange sharpness to his face, bringing his eyes and their slightly haunted expression into unusual focus. His forehead is ever so slightly ridged, hinting that under his thick brown hair is a lumpy skull of the type that looks rather strange when bald. Cut short his hair has a natural wave when not tucked under his crimson beret, the color a dark brown set against a natural sunbleached blond.
Clothed in black accented with splashes of crimson and red, he is quickly recognizable as Sindikat muscle, maybe a well paid errand boy. His clothing is in good shape, if dirty from travel. He carries himself halfway between a slump and the rigid posture of one posessing a toned musculature. His arms are long and thin, corded with muscle. His hands are smaller than average, fine fingered while bony and calloused. His legs are bandy, hinting not at speed but at long distance stamina. He rolls his feet as he moves, his footfalls muffled by this gait.
His demeanor is odd; observant yet unobtrusive, an air of preparedness without flightyness or seeming threatening. Frankly, he looks a little lost, and some would even say amiable.