He slipped out of the fog like a ghost; dressed head to toe in darken shades. He wore a Millford coat which billowed out behind him as he walked out of the dark, paired off with a navy scarf wrapped around his chalk-white neck. He dressed smartly as if for a business meeting; a crisp black shirt buttoned up to his neck and smart trousers, gradually leading down to his highly polished Cap Toe Balmorals, tapping against the concrete.
His face was expressionless, a simple blank canvas as he strode down the back road, keeping his bony hands firmly in his pockets and his face without an inch of emotion. He had piercing blue eyes which held your gaze with its vigilant glare, and a pale face that looked cold to touch. His eyebrows were crumpled up in concentration or deliberation, with the latter he spent nearly every waking moment doing. He pursed his lips as he studied his surroundings, making deductions of everything that caught his eye – probably to the closet millimetre of accuracy, judging by how swift his eyes skimmed around everything that was and left his path. It was if you could see the clogs spurring in his head.
He said nothing and felt nothing, a frozen icicle of a man, drowning in knowledge as he was empty of feelings. His dark hair tangled in curls swayed with every step but stayed out of his eyes, which were swallowing up everything there was, filling out its own portfolio in the few seconds it took. He walked with a brisk step as he dodged out of the shadows, his pale face illuminated by a nearby lamp post.
