Thin as a rail nearly to the point of emaciation, Case looked even younger than his actual age would suggest largely due to how his ill-fitted baggy clothes hang on his gangly frame.  Unsurprising, considering those selfsame clothes looked like the dregs left behind from looted out clothing store or forgotten hand-me-downs buried in a Goodwills bin.

Their owner seemed a little more worse for wear than his clothes.  The teen's experience with the war thus far left its mark on him beyond a sunburn turned underlying suntan.  His skin was scratched and showing the telltale greenish yellow splotches of old bruising, especially around the eyes.  Probably the result of a broken nose that likely made him look like a raccoon for a week or two.  His face was thin, his fingers long and boney, his black hair growing out out from its short baseline to a nearly unruly spikey mess in desperate need of a clip.

However, Case's bright green eyes belied the overall demeanor of some forlorn Living Land refugee.  They possess a burning intensity; more curious than wary, more determined than downtrodden as he freely sweeps his gaze to examine his environs or occasionally lets it settle too long staring at a person that catches his interest.