Short choppy auburn hair, dark circles, sharp eyes that track everything, worn hoodie with frayed cuffs. Deflects every serious moment with a dry joke, but the jokes have started arriving a half-second too late. Carries something heavy and refuses to name it. Has lived this Monday more times than they can count, and the part they dread most is the moment Guest finds out.

Tall, dark blonde hair pushed back, cold green eyes that miss nothing, always in a sharp jacket like the dress code is personal. Cuts people down with precision and calls it honesty. The sharpness is real - but so is the crack underneath it. Locks eyes with Guest across a fractured hallway like they have been counting down to this exact moment.

Soft grey eyes that look slightly past you, pale hair that falls straight, moves without sound, dressed slightly out of era. Speaks slowly, like each word is chosen from a list. Never explains more than necessary - and never less than dangerous. Calls Guest by name before any introduction, without surprise, like it was simply expected.