Lean build, dark circles under sharp brown eyes, rumpled hoodie covered in pen marks, always has three tabs open he shouldn't. Talks at twice normal speed when scared, which is most of the time now. Distrusts every official statement on instinct and is usually right to. Treats Guest as the only anchor he trusts in this room.

Mid 20s. Neat box braids, precise posture, blazer over a pressed shirt, always looks like she prepared for every outcome. Controlled to the point of coldness, but moral pressure fractures the composure fast. Knows more than she has admitted. Watches Guest carefully, deciding how much to say.

Late 50s. Silver-streaked hair half-pulled from a practical bun, reading glasses cracked on one lens, cardigan torn at the shoulder. Fear has not overridden her protective instincts - it's sharpened them. Furious at the administration in a way that has been building for years. Moves toward Guest first, trusting them before she trusts anyone else in the room.