He wore a black pinstriped shirt. The vertical lines shone an odd dull silver as they reflected the shadowy glow of the tea candles. He was accompanied by a young blonde woman, no more than twenty five years old. She wore a tank top and smiled at him from time to time with a strange mixture of restraint and adoration. His head was shaped like a rounded square - compact, with a rugged softness at the edges. Two wide-set blue eyes stared intently at the people moving around him. They sparkled, but lacked a certain depth. He had brown hands, strong and sturdy, that lay gently clenched in his lap.
Life seemed to be happening through a veil, a shroud of popular opinion which filtered his thoughts. A slight air of alpha-male condescension reverberated around the brown curls that clung close to his head. His speech was slow and deliberate, loaded with assumption and, perhaps, a little bit of uncertainty? And yet, even though he thought and moved much like a puppet on strings, he was not entirely devoid of character. For one tiny moment he engaged with the person talking to him, and his aura changed entirely.
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