The skin on his face was papery thin and a sickly shade of grey. The grey seemed to linger under the sickening pallor of the hue. It clung to each and every rounded contour of his face, emphasizing the hollows each time he gave a slight turn of his head. The skin fit him like the mold of a mask, exposing the bones that jutted out of his gaunt face. His cheeks were shallow, and his eyes were empty. From a distance Riddle appeared handsome, sophisticated even. But up close, she saw the real him, the shell of a human.