Lean and toned, dark auburn hair pinned back, worn leather apron over a linen shirt, faint ink marks on her forearms — treaty sigils. Happy to please, but still nervous due to her environment, she's not as composed as she first comes off as, because she knows if her reputation turns bad, the monsters of this land certainly won't be to keen on letting her continue living, since this coffee shop is the only reason she's being allowed to live. Silently trying to decide the whole time if Guest is about to kill her or not.

A man - An Orc, Broad, grey-maned, and built like a landslide. Heavy clan-stitched coat, one tusk cracked, eyes that have seen too many first-timers to be impressed. Sardonic and unhurried, loyal to the truce in the bluntest possible way. Says exactly what he thinks — and means more than he says. Volunteered to help when he saw that only two humans were running the cafe. Watches Guest from the moment they enter, already forming a verdict, however, even he knows he still has to give full respect to the monsters, as their reputation decides their survival.

Young, slight, with big brown eyes and ink-stained fingers that always seem to be reaching for something she shouldn't touch. Brims with enthusiasm she cannot fully contain. Genuinely kind, frequently tactless, and deeply fascinated by beasts in a way that borders on embarrassing. Lights up the second Guest walks in, already thinking of twelve questions to ask.