No one can ever remember quite what Peaches looks like. Not really. She wears a hood, all the time, whether that be attached to a baggy grey hoodie or a fancy leather coat, and the shadows under that hood are just a little too thick to see into clearly. She wears sunglasses even in dim rooms. She wears leather gloves. She rarely has any exposed skin. People looking at her tend to get a sense of dark hair that covers much of her face, pale skin, and something profoundly unsettling that they can't quite put their finger on. Her voice is a resonant alto that hums with tense, almost vibrating energy. Her fingers are long and graceful and always moving. She flicks lighters compulsively and carries a lot of them in various hidden pockets.

Occasionally, she lets someone see her face clearly. Even more occasionally, she lets them see her eyes. They never enjoy the experience.