Walter Calvet

If ever a man could be described as 'All Nerves', it would be Calvet. Standing at five foot seven- though with an eternal posture that looks like he just heard something loud fall over in the middle of the night, he's even shorter than that- the man's eyelids are accentuated by dark bags under them. While his right eye is bloodshot, his left one is milky and unfocused, whatever the cause was probably linked to the catastrophic burn wounds taking up most of his left side. While his head appears to be full of tangled blonde hair his frequent, absent mussying it reveals a dramatic widows peak and a receeding hairline under it. He speaks falteringly, never maintaining eye contact for long, breaking any gaze to look over his shoulder, or past the speaker. Alongside any other accessories, a tarnished red pin with a white line and almost illegible text that reads 'F-r-t Ai- Ce-rt--ied' rests on his chest.