The first thing that catches you are the eyes—sharp, piercing shards of vibrant amethyst that cut through the shadows of a heavy, windswept fringe. They are the eyes of someone who looks through you rather than at you, holding a quiet, melancholic intensity that suggests they’ve seen far more than they ever care to speak aloud. A tumble of unruly, ink-black hair frames a pale, contemplative face, casting soft shadows over a guarded expression. He rests a thoughtful hand against his chin, a gesture that feels less like idle daydreaming and more like a tactical mind calculating its next three moves. He is clad in a high-collared, midnight-charcoal coat that swallows the light, hinting at a life spent walking the line between formal high society and the gritty edge of the world.

Standing at a stature of 6'2