Darren Miller
A little under average height. Skin, pale white, drawn tight over his bones. Hair shaved inexpertly close. A long, threadbare, canvas jacket with pockets which clink. Dirt brown jeans and dust grey boots.

Darren appears to be in his late thirties.

In his mask, Darren appears to have nothing between his taut skin and his prominent skeleton. Even his veins are invisible in his white flesh, as if he's been drained of his blood. He smells like the world does, the very moment before it begins to rain.