Full-length view, the entire figure visible from head to feet, standing upright, centered inside a busy commercial kitchen — stainless-steel counters, a hot flat-top range, hanging pans and steam framing the sides. Igor is a young trainee cook in his early twenties, slim and slightly gangly with narrow shoulders, fair skin flushed pink at the cheeks, and messy short light-brown hair poking out under a slightly crooked white paper toque. Round nervous hazel eyes, thin eyebrows raised in worry, a small anxious open-mouthed expression. He wears a wrinkled white double-breasted chef jacket (a few buttons misaligned), a stained blue-checked apron tied loosely, rolled sleeves, black-and-white houndstooth kitchen trousers, and scuffed black non-slip clogs. He clutches a wooden spoon in one hand, the other raised defensively, shoulders hunched in a flustered, panicky posture.
