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Sickly looking
Answer for the clue "Sickly looking ", 3 letters:
wan
Alternative clues for the word wan
Word definitions for wan in dictionaries
The Collaborative International Dictionary
Word definitions in The Collaborative International Dictionary
Wan \Wan\, a. [AS. wann, wonn, wan, won, dark, lurid, livid, perhaps originally, worn out by toil, from winnan to labor, strive. See Win .] Having a pale or sickly hue; languid of look; pale; pallid. ``Sad to view, his visage pale and wan.'' --Spenser. ...
Usage examples of wan.
It was Sandy Wan, the woman who would later help me track down the truth about the abortus vendors.
Wan and hollow-eyed as Seregil looked, he was bearing up better than Alec had imagined possible.
Blinking slowly, his worn gentle face turned stony, the Wan searched the dazed faces of the Amar until he saw the one he Wanted.
They arst of that suewish rtas then m we arI r chickhen he tFred eet lookch mffee, waN C E snames len I was ords.
She shaded her eyes and looked up and saw the moon hanging in the pure summer blueness, a wan face blankly amused by their silliness.
In the plaza a dozen white dolomite statues, now more or less dilapidated, cast stark black shadows away from the wan red sunlight.
He dipped doughy bread into it regularly and sucked at the resulting mess, chewing but not biting off, gnawing and worrying at the saliva-fouled bread that dripped wan yellow onto his desk.
The Escapee, however, faced with this insurrection of militant pessimism, turned pale and wan and murmured to himself comforting phrases of Kropotkin, etc.
Nothing execrable was wanting, neither military scenes full of little leaden soldiers, nor wan antiquity, nor the middle ages, smeared, as it were, with bitumen.
But ifn he evah did fah me, Ahd hab a dozin places in one houah from de varyus gennelmens what wans me.
And that Fiers might have also stolen their daughter, christened Carla May Mendelsohn, training her throughout a cold childhood of mind control and psychological indoctrination to become the wan, silent, tormented, but no less deadly, personal assassin he had christened Pity.
Pools of fouled black water gleamed greasily in the wan daylight, fringed with charred, stinking vegetation.
There he met a man who called himself Ha Minh Hien, who from his description is almost certainly your friend Van Luk Wan.
Her fragrant hair tickled his face as he strayed slow kisses there and caressed the lovesome geography of her, the flat, solid muscles in her back, the flesh of her nape under its wanning hair-cover.
He has the connections to find out through immigration whether Van Luk Wan entered the US as a tourist or a refugee.