Oliver Grave

Tall, thin, slightly hunched over. Long arms, thin fingers, protruding collarbones. Walks slowly, with a slight sway, as if he has trouble lifting his feet off the ground.
His hair is ash-blond, almost white, and shoulder-length. His bangs are uneven, cut short—they always fall into his eyes, and he doesn't brush them away, instead squinting or tilting his head back to see who he's talking to. On his head is a huge knitted hat, gray, worn, covered in patches: an old emblem, a skull, a colorful letter "F." He wears it all the time, even indoors.
His eyes are brown, warm, and honey-colored, making his gaze always seem a little surprised and disoriented. One pupil is slightly larger than the other—it's immediately noticeable if you look closely.

Oliver lives at his own pace. He doesn't answer questions right away—he looks away, remains silent for a few seconds, then looks up and speaks. He's slow, but not stupid: his thoughts just come a little later than everyone else's.
He's strange, but there's no anxiety in him. His drowsiness, his detachment, his drawn-out gaze—it's not fatigue or indifference. He's just always a little off-center, somewhere where time moves more slowly. And when he finally says what he's been thinking for the last half minute, it turns out he got it right. He just needs a little more time. However, he can easily maintain a conversation, just at a slightly slower pace. He expresses emotions calmly, albeit a little subdued.

He loves little things. He might stop in the middle of the street, examining a crack in the pavement, or freeze mid-conversation, noticing something behind his conversation partner. He has a habit of collecting found objects—coins, keys, scraps of paper—and storing them in a box. Sometimes he'll sort through them, smiling thoughtfully, and at these moments, it seems as if he's somewhere far away.
Wears colorful shirts, colorful prints, extravagant, gebouwsnve T-shirts with flowers, checkered patterns or stars.
He doesn't like his appearance, but his hair always gives him a surge of pride, even though he doesn't take special care of it.
He dabbles in substances, which is evident from his reddened eyes or sometimes trembling hands.