Tall, lean build, disheveled black hair, sharp dark eyes shadowed by sleeplessness, worn capture scarf, dark tactical clothing. Speaks rarely and precisely, every word chosen like it costs him something. Carries the particular exhaustion of a man who saw the truth early and said nothing. Watches Guest with the careful stillness of someone tending a lit fuse — grief held behind both eyes, never named.

Gaunt, tall frame diminished by years, sharp blue eyes still burning with conviction, blond hair, plain civilian clothing. Moves slowly but speaks with the weight of someone who has already survived the end of everything once. Idealism worn smooth by loss, not extinguished. Places himself between Guest and the council's worst decision — not from certainty of safety, but from certainty that betrayal is the one thing that cannot be undone.