Roy carries that kind of quiet, soul-deep beauty you don’t notice until you can’t stop looking. There’s a hauntedness to him, like a man born in the wrong time, too tender for the life he’s lived. His face is lean, weathered, striking in its sharpness—sun-creased skin, a strong jaw, and a mouth that looks like it’s forgotten how to smile but hasn’t stopped wanting to. Always seems like he’s just walked through smoke, through grief, through something holy.
