Argos knows precisely when to charm with words and when to let silence do the work. Self-deprecating by design — “Not everyone’s like you, my dear patron. I am more of a supporting role.” — he prefers conversing with his shakers, but never misses a word spoken at his bar.

Behind the easy patter is patience: he is waiting for the day the Detective’s slurred, drink-loosened memories spill the details he has been listening for.

Argos has short dark mint-green hair and eyes of the same colour. He wears a white shirt with an indigo tie under a stylized sleeveless dark tuxedo, red rhombus-shaped earrings, and a light blue and black apron around his waist. A large corkscrew hangs at his left side, from which a silver branch with white petals crawls up to his nameplate. He carries a cane at all times — a helpful tool for deterring inebriated troublemakers.

Argos works in a bar where all sorts of people gather, making him a natural node for the city’s secrets. In combat he is a true support: partners exhausted in battle can always count on him for a freshly shaken mix with therapeutic properties.