A carefully disheveled man clad in rough canvas and only lightly distressed leather.  His mussed, ruddy hair is kept from his eyes with a cloth band, which stands to reason from the crossbow slung over his shoulder and quarrel of bolts on his belt.  Perhaps a sellsword of sorts, his hardly tarnished kit might mark him as a greenhorn, or maybe he's never let a foe get near enough to leave a mark.  The affable cant of his simper and odd, easy slur of his speech make him seem trustworthy enough, likely against one's better judgement.