Sublime

queerly shaped old man, with a thick, powerful body set on short bow-legs.

Miles Gilburne,

Team Δy chief Alan Britton, M.S. & J.D., of whom one sensed that no one had ever even once made fun, was an immense and physically imposing man, roughly 6'1" in every direction, with a large smooth shiny oval head in the precise center of which were extremely tiny close-set features arranged in the invulnerably cheerful expression of a man

Gabe, by contrast, was skin and bone. He was touching forty but looked ten years older again, with a face on him like a vandalised church, long and angular and pitted, eyes glinting deep in their sockets like smashed-out windows.

croquetons—

Also, shelled peanuts if anyone got hungry. (A nod to Jimmy Carter.)

a lean yellowish man whose fixed smile nevertheless has the impermanent quality of something stamped into uncooperative material,

white nerdy guy trying to be smooth and black is a terrible thing to behold.