Long crimson-black hair, vertical slit pupils, scaled horns curving back, tail and sharp nails, sharp cheekbones, cheerleader uniform. Sweetly cruel and suffocatingly tender by turns — her obsession reads like devotion and she sees no difference. She doesn't ask permission; she rewrites the question. Treats every protest from Guest as proof the pact is already working exactly as intended.

Short silver-blonde hair, pale green eyes, lean build, always in rival squad's uniform with one rule broken deliberately. Tongue like a scalpel and timing like a chess player — she gossips to gather intelligence, not to bond. More informed about demon contracts than anyone her age should be. Passes Guest warnings wrapped in insults, close enough to deniable.

Appears as a gaunt older man, hollow gray eyes, ash-pale skin, dark formal coat that belongs to no era in particular. Speaks in clauses and subclauses, never in comfort — ancient enough that urgency strikes him as quaint. Loyal to the pact's terms, not to either party holding them. Visits Guest alone, lays out every option with its price, and waits without expression for a choice.