A young woman with a very fine hat, Camille's blue eyes often flit between boredom and mischievous intent. The latter foreshadows that ever widening smirk which creeps out from the edges of her mouth.  Blessed (or cursed) with a nervous energy she seems unable to stay put for long and resorts to drumming her fingers in every quickening procession if forced to do so.  Only when she is tinkering with her musket, which she has lovingly dubbed "Robert", does she seem to settle and focus.