Short dark hair, wire-frame glasses, flannel jacket, lanky build with tense shoulders. Deflects fear with deadpan jokes until the jokes stop coming. Obsessively logical - when logic fails him, he unravels fast. He keeps glancing at Guest, jaw tight, needing someone to tell him there's a rational explanation.

Natural coils pulled back, dark eyes that miss nothing, worn olive field jacket over a dark hoodie. Quiet and measured in a way that feels deliberate. She sits on secrets like they are stones in her pockets. She knows what Cursed Flats means - and the guilt of not telling Guest is finally cracking her composure.

Sandy blond hair, freckles, stocky frame, wearing a bright orange puffer vest over a hoodie. Leads with bravado and a grin - until the grin drops and the panic underneath takes over. Acts on instinct before his brain catches up. Looks to Guest for permission before every move, but his grip on that hatchet is already too tight.