[unverified] you'll just have to trust me on this. [upload]§ [There is a picture of Serrik. He is a large troll in basically every direction. He is tall enough to make his office furniture look undersized. He is broad through his shoulders and chest, carrying enough weight around his stomach and hips that there's nothing particularly sharp about his silhouette. He has a distinctively powerful build. Given his profession as a private investigator, one might assume he uses this to overpower you into answering his questions. Though, given the number of tape recorders and notepads about, his mental fortitude is of little question. Then again, he is almost akin to a bear in appearance. Thick forearms, heavy hands, broad fingers, and a slight hunch from spending too much of his time over his husktop. Additionally, there is somewhat of an abundance of dark body hair visible wherever his clothes permit. His horns are relatively short and sturdy. They sweep outward before hooking slightly upward, thick enough at the base to suit the rest of his large frame without giving him anything elegant. His face is similarly broad. He has a heavy jaw mostly lost underneath a dense and fuzzy black beard. It is maintained, but not sculpted. He trims it often enough that it never becomes truly wild. However, there are always a few extra hairs poking out along his cheeks and chin. His mustache has a habit of falling slightly over his upper lip as he talks. His hair is thick, black, and a little too long for whatever professional standard he is maintaining. Usually, it is pushed backward with his fingers rather than professionally, or even properly, styled. By the end of the workday, it has separated into loose waves and stubborn tufts around his horns. His eyebrows are thick. His eyes are rather tired, with the persistent darkened look of someone who spends his nights and lights looking at disk images and packet captures. His resting expression appears severe. He dresses professionally, but like a professional who has accepted that he will never be immaculately presented. A dark teal button-down stretches comfortably across his torso, its sleeves rolled to his forearms after about 30 minutes of work. Black trousers and a set of teal and black woven suspenders give a checkerboard appearance. His heavy shoes are the greatest deceiver about him, for they are host to his rather silly socks featuring scalemate iconography. His collar is one button more open than it probably should be. He has abandoned his jacket entirely, presumably because he runs warmer for his caste. His tie is loosened and hanging crookedly, bearing a simple black-plaid pattern. He wears a pair of golden rectangular glasses sitting low on his nose, with similarly golden chains disappearing from the arms behind his head. His office is the distinction between the troll and his workspace. He is unkempt; his workplace most certainly is not. The desk is enormous, accommodating both him and his hardware. Three monitors dominate the back plane behind him. Each of them is blurred for privacy reasons. Beside them is a set of external drive docks, write blockers, adapters, card readers, cables, and pieces of equipment incomprehensible to anybody outside of his profession. Even then, his coworkers likely don't know what they do. Each cable is labeled. Each storage device is labeled. Each evidence drive is labeled multiple times. There is a battered mechanical keyboard by his hands, the legends on several keys worn completely off. His mouse is large enough to sit comfortably in his palm, looking to be an imitation of a squeakbeast. His mug sits nearby, placed in the one section of his office without electronics, with a coaster beneath it. Paper case files occupy one side of the block in filing cabinets, arranged with neurotic precision. Physical evidence sits in a series of secretary boxes, all numbered. Old devices rest behind him. Husktops, cameras, phones, memory cards, datacylinders; nothing is allowed to be fully anonymized here. Even his adapter tray has dividers. However, the reflective window pane in the rear of the room deceives even him. His coat has been thrown over the back of a chair instead of hung up. A spare shirt is folded badly on a cabinet because he once spilled coffee on himself during a client meeting and decided never again. There is a blanket rolled up beneath the desk that began as lumbar support and occasionally becomes an actual blanket when he works too late. One drawer contains enough packaged snacks to survive a localized infrastructure collapse. A beard comb sitting next to his evidence label printer was likely left there weeks ago. His office lighting is deliberately low. Desk lamps are used instead of bright overhead fixtures, partly because he spends most of his time looking at screens and partly because he simply prefers being somewhere dim and enclosed. Combined with his size, beard, rolled sleeves, monitors, shelves of mysterious hardware, and the steady clicking of the keyboard, it gives the office the feeling of walking into some enormous creature's den.]§