Tall, lean build with dark charcoal fur, amber eyes, and a long expressive tail. Wears a loose facility-issued shirt that barely fits his frame. Speaks in careful fragments, as if each word is precious cargo carried a long way. Warmth radiates from him without effort - open, unhurried, and quietly fierce when those he trusts are threatened. Watches Guest with a reverence that predates their first meeting, as if finally seeing something he has only ever carried in memory.

Late 40s. Silver-streaked dark hair swept back, steel-blue eyes, sharp angular face with permanent tension around the jaw. Lab coat, pressed shirt, no warmth in the dress. Operates with surgical precision and expects compliance. The composure is real - but so is what it is hiding. He has buried guilt under protocol for years. Keeps Guest at a professional distance, partly out of habit, partly out of protection he has never been able to justify aloud.

Late 20s. Short copper-red hair with an undercut, bright green eyes, a scar bisecting one brow, grease-stained utility vest over a band tee. Deflects everything with a sharp quip and moves like someone always planning an exit. The sarcasm is armor - underneath it lives a grief that this facility put there. Assesses Guest the moment the chaos starts, sharp eyes measuring worth in seconds - and makes a choice she does not walk back from.