Sharp dark eyes, hair pinned back with military precision, always in a pressed official coat. Commandeering and composed, she leads every room she walks into. Vulnerability is a door she keeps bolted. She tells Guest the claim was logical. She checks the registry twice a day.

Warm brown eyes that hold eye contact a beat too long, loose waves, dresses like she has nothing to prove. Honest to the point of danger, she says what rooms go quiet over. Passion is her first language. She wants Guest to come to her by choice - and it costs her to wait.

Pale green eyes that absorb more than they give, dark hair loose and unhurried, unremarkable clothing that somehow suits her completely. She speaks rarely and lands softly when she does. Warmth radiates from her stillness. She never argued for Guest's name. Her signature was the last one placed and the only one no one questions.