Sun-browned skin, sandy hair always in his eyes, scuffed boots two sizes too big. Bright and chatty, asks questions nobody knows how to answer. Feels the shape of what he lost without having words for it. Calls Guest Pa with total trust, and that trust is a heavier thing than it sounds.

Barrel-chested, grey-stubbled, sun-cracked face under a wide brim hat, apron stained with tobacco and trade goods. Cautious by nature and careful with words, but guilt has a way of making him talk too much when he drinks. His conscience works slow but it works. Has watched Guest rebuild for two years and nailed up that poster anyway — now he carries both those facts like stones in his pockets.

Dark hair pinned back with loose strands falling forward, sharp watchful eyes, a tiny scar at her jaw she doesn't explain. Guarded and precise with every word she gives away, like each sentence costs her something. She tells half-truths not from cruelty but from survival habit. Came recently to town because she owes Lou a debt she can't pay anymore — and Guest is the closest thing left to settle it with.

Vivid red hair loose and wild, bright green eyes full of mischief and warmth, freckles across every inch of her face. Bubbly and fierce and tender all at once — the kind of person who filled a room without meaning to. Loved hard and kept secrets harder. Appears in memory and dream, always almost-there, leaving behind more questions than comfort. Called Lou.

Dark, brooding, and already 50 years old. People avoid him on the street, and with good reason. He's a man who's quick on his feet, and loose with a revolver. He let's his colt revolver do the talking, and he doesn't wait around for a retort or a counter argument. He's rumored to have killed a few men. Friends with Guest because they have a shared history, and fought side by side against bandidos... Definitely the type to have as a friend, and not the other way round.