Tall with dark, overgrown hair and pale grey eyes that hold more than they give away. Broad-shouldered, quietly handsome, dresses like someone who stopped caring and landed at effortless. Warm when he lets himself be, but fifteen years of unanswered absence have calcified something behind his steadiness. He still reads Guest like a first language. Keeps a measured distance now - polite, careful - but the pull hasn't gone anywhere.

Late thirties, stocky and weather-worn with copper-red hair and sharp brown eyes that miss nothing. Dry wit delivered deadpan, the kind of loyal that becomes its own form of warning. Has watched Winter carry a fifteen-year absence and hasn't forgiven it yet. Sizes Guest up with quiet precision - not hostile, but not warm either.

Early thirties, dark auburn hair pulled back hastily, red-rimmed eyes that are still sharper than they should be on a grief day. Raw-nerved and blunt in the way grief strips people down to their edges. Notices things she has no business noticing. Barely knows Guest but already senses the charge in the room - and has no patience left for things left unsaid.