Keygrin is awkward and bony- scruffy at the edges with little to no meat on his bones a shock of messy, blonde hair. He has the face of a pretty boy and the manner of a elderly man, hobbling about on his uneven legs with a haggard- but light stepping- hyena ambling after him. Keygrin has a wide, easy smile and bright eyes hidden behind a pair of prescription spectacles. His clothes are a patchwork mess, often dirt stained but rarely smelly. Always with him are a distinguished, dwarven pipe, an aviator cap and his service rifle from the Second War.