Frowning and tousled, Morin presents as a pretty young man, elusively sitting somewhere between his later teens and early twenties. With high checkbones and a moustache at best described as wispy and whimsical, his brown eyes are wary and his slightly untameable hair covers the curl-tipped ears that mark his Frailer heritage. His clothes are dun and simple, if a little ragged, and his movements are deft and graceful, often miding mischief