His waist is shockingly curvy, but not extremely curvy. Just the shock that it's curved at all hits hard. Not too muscular, not even that wide built, but enough that it's clear he used to be a soldier. Much more small compared to Chris Redfield. Always wearing his dog tags. Typically clean shaven. REALLY likes steak. Also wears eyeliner on his water lines usually. It's endearing.

His build is the first thing that hits you: solid, broad, and unmistakably shaped by years of combat. Not just muscular—functional, like every inch of him was trained for survival and protecting others. His shoulders carry the kind of weight most people never see, and it shows in the way he stands, steady and grounded. Compared to someone like Piers, he’s undeniably larger, but there’s a gentleness under all that strength that makes him feel safe rather than imposing. Always wearing his dog tags, a quiet reminder of everything he’s lived through. Usually clean shaven, though he doesn’t mind a bit of stubble when missions run long. His presence is intense, focused, but there’s a warmth in him that slips through when he lets his guard down.

His build is athletic in that unpolished, natural way—strong without looking like he lives in a gym, fast without seeming like he’s trying. There’s a roughness to him, a kind of restless energy that sits in his shoulders and the way he moves, like he’s always ready to bolt or throw a punch depending on what the moment demands. Not as massive as Chris, not as refined as Leon, but undeniably capable, with a confidence that feels earned rather than performed. His expression is usually guarded, a little cynical, but there’s a spark of humor that slips out when he lets his walls drop. The way he carries himself—half defiance, half independence—makes it clear he’s spent most of his life relying on no one but himself. And yet, when he chooses to care, it’s unexpectedly sincere.

His frame is leaner than most of the other heavy hitters around him, built more for agility than brute force. There’s a sharpness to him—long lines, quick movements, the kind of body that looks like it’s survived too many close calls and learned to stay light on its feet. Not as broad as Chris, not as compact as Piers, but unmistakably strong in a way that feels lived‑in rather than trained. His hair is always just slightly tousled, like he ran a hand through it on the way out the door and called it good.