**A cheerful yellow apron covers Bif's regular attire. Several cooking utensils are stuffed into it's large front pocket, and it is emblazoned kiss the cook.**
The combination of gawky height, narrow shoulders and hairless chin marks Bif out as being at some awkward stage between adolescence and manhood. His face is narrow with high cheekbones and most often wears the easy sort of smile that comes with youth. Shining out of his obliviously handsome face, his eyes are starkly opposing shades of truffle brown and forest green. His inquisitive gaze is framed by long, spikey and sandy lashes.
The arrangement of Bif's hair gives him the look of someone just awoken from a pleasant nap. His overgrown, tufty and tawny tresses have been left to grow without style, flopping boyishly over his brow and obscuring his ears. When not slipping down his nose or paning mismatched eyes, a pair of bronze-rimmed, round spectacles are pushed back into the tangled russet of his hair.
Bif is clothed in a zany assortment of oddments. A plain shirt is topped with a waistcoat with a jazzy geometrical design, drawing tightly around skinny ribs and a narrow waist. Pinned to his lapel, a beaten brass monocle and a shiny, silver medal wink in the rifter's light. None of his brass buttons match, and a slender, fantastically blue tie fastens at the base of his throat.
As they say, the greater the man, the more interesting his trousers. Biffy's trousers are narrow to his long legs and pigeon grey. A decorative tatter of colourful ribbons and jingly bells tied just below his knees sound the merry ditty of his approach. A slight gap between his trousers and his crakow shoes displays a sliver of mismatching socks.
Across his horny knuckles are strange, tattooed symbols in fading blueish-green ink: Something that looks like a triangle resides upon his middle finger. Upon it's neighbour, is a crescent moon. Another is etched with something that looks vaguely like a star, along with various other odd-looking shapes and nondescript symbols that cover fingers and thumbs.
Biffy carries a large, beaten pack slung over one of his slender shoulders. It's dull, canvas exterior has been brightened by a number of colourfully embroidered patches that read things like, 'I he?rt humanoids' and 'Gremlins are great!' complete with a romantically sweet depiction of a Gremlin, winking and giving a thumbs-up. A burgundy-dyed, woolly pom-pom bounces from a string tied to one of his bag buckles.
A journal with a gull plume tucked into the spine peeks out of his pack. The Humanoidologist .
The Hollowed Tree Gremlins.
Dances With Dwellers - Vol 1
Tomes About Gnomes
Biffy smells of mud and the wind, of Gremlins and grass. The spirited and frolicsome smell of boy.