Sully Riddles is the kind of man who looks competent, but not in a way which reassures you. Tall, thin and built like a greyhound, he looks like he can hold his own in a fight, something which is backed up by the scars on his knuckles and hands.

He does, it should be noted, possess something which might once have been a rogueish charm, but this has metamorphosised into an air of power tinged with casual cruelty, the mark of a wolf at the head of a pack who expects respect.

Bearded, jacketed and booted, he wears the uniform of the club well, almost like a second skin, and the black marks on his hands reflect his experience and handiness with the tools of his trade. While his youth has left him and there's the beginnings of grey in his muzzle, he has lost none of his guile or his ruthlessness.