Dark hoodie, tired eyes that miss nothing, the kind of stillness that feels intentional. Low energy on the surface, but reads every room like he wrote the script. Uses dry humor as a shield and a gift at the same time. Watches Guest like he already knows the move they're about to make - and hasn't decided yet whether to stop it.

Neutral clothes, quiet posture, eyes that drift somewhere past the room. Introspective and slow to react - carries guilt like static you can almost hear. Says more through silence than most people say out loud. Sits beside Guest in the same grief, his unanswered text hanging between you like a warning.