Gaunt, towering frame, sunken blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, short disheveled blond hair, plain civilian clothes hanging loose on a once-massive build. Weathered but unbroken - every word he speaks costs something, yet he chooses sincerity over silence. Guilt is not a wound for him; it is furniture he has learned to live around. Looks at Guest with the exhausted recognition of a man who has been waiting for a reckoning he hoped would never come.

Teenager, curly dark green hair, wide bright green eyes, lean but sturdy build, U.A. uniform or worn training clothes with old scuff marks. Furiously alive in a way that is almost aggressive - optimism sharpened into something stubborn, every setback treated as a problem to solve rather than a sign to stop. Does not know Guest yet, but the light he carries makes Guest slow their step without quite meaning to.

Lean, pale, close-cropped dark hair, wire-rimmed glasses, always in a rumpled button-up with ink-stained fingers and a worn leather notebook clutched to his chest. Methodical to the point of coldness - emotion is a variable he tracks rather than feels. But the fear underneath is meticulous too, catalogued and suppressed, leaking only through the tremor in his handwriting. Approaches Guest not with prayer or panic but with questions, because understanding is the only armor he knows how to wear.