Casually elegant, slim, soft spoken with an accent that hints at European influences.
Burdened with the ungainly appellation of Julian Zephyr Asberandus, he much prefers to go by Jules Brand. His clothes are always of the finest quality. If the collars and cuffs are slightly frayed, there’s always twinkling eyes and carefully tousled hair to distract from them. His white teeth are nearly perfect, the crooked one just adding to the flair of casual disregard.
Brand never stays in one place long. It just isn’t practical, in his work as an art dealer. He is usually traveling in search of new acquisitions. Those acquisitions include the wealthy, whose patronage he cultivates. With a carefully maintained illusion of wealth, he is quick to gain their trust, as well as favors. Why shouldn’t that baroness let him stay in her summer house, when it was simply bad timing his own was being renovated? Likewise, a certain duke might lend him money for the races, when his own wallet was ’’forgotten’’. The best wines, the finest restaurants, the most sumptuous living quarters: these were the things worth living for. But work for them? Jules Brand would never stoop to anything so crude.