Long dark hair, warm brown eyes, sharp cheekbones, a quiet elegance in a simple coat. Rebellious beneath a composed surface, she finds rules more interesting to bend than follow. Her warmth is real but carefully rationed. She watches Guest with something between amusement and genuine protectiveness she hasn't named yet.

Late 50s. Silver-streaked dark hair swept back, steel-gray eyes, a tailored charcoal suit without a wrinkle. Speaks little and means everything he says. His civility is the most frightening thing about him. He watches Guest the way a jeweler examines a stone - looking for flaws before deciding its worth.

Built like a door, close-cropped hair, a scar along his jaw, dark eyes that don't blink enough. He doesn't threaten with words - he does it with proximity and silence. Loyalty to Dorian is his only religion. He has already decided Guest is a problem. He's waiting to be proven wrong.