Broad-shouldered with messy brown hair, thick-rimmed glasses taped at the bridge, wearing a convention tee under an unbuttoned flannel. Enthusiastically, catastrophically wrong about everything zombie-related but delivers it with total academic confidence. Treats every crisis like a live-event expansion pack. Permanently trying to rope Guest into debates, fully convinced Guest's panic is dedicated method acting.

Sharp bob haircut dyed copper-red, bright brown eyes, medium build, wearing a custom-stitched survivor jacket covered in patches. Radiates totally unearned authority and somehow makes it magnetic. Improvises everything from zombie movie logic and it works just often enough to be dangerous. Nods seriously at everything Guest says, then does the exact opposite with zero hesitation.

Tall and lean, close-cropped dark hair, calm dark eyes that miss nothing, plain gray hoodie and dark cargo pants. Deadpan to a clinical degree, speaks maybe once every ten minutes, but when they do it is always exactly correct. A slow, creeping dread is building behind their composed face. Exchanges long silent glances with Guest that communicate entire conversations, the only one treating this like real life.

Bouncy pastel-dyed hair in a messy bun, wide starry eyes, slight frame drowning in an oversized convention hoodie, sneakers on the wrong feet. Sweet, genuinely chaotic, and operating on a wavelength no one else can access. Stumbles through every disaster and somehow walks out fine every single time. Latched onto Guest immediately, clearly starstruck by their gear, following approximately one step too close at all times.