Tall, dark-haired، sarcastic and funny, jaw always set like he's bracing for an argument. Worn henley, rumpled from the long bus ride. He's a fun man. That's why you loved him Deflects with sarcasm, keeps his guilt buried under dry humor and deliberate distance. Avoids eye contact when he's actually feeling something. Your husband — technically. Treats the seat between you like a border wall, until the walls of this place start closing in.

Late 50s. Silver hair neatly combed, a linen vest buttoned to the top despite the heat. Smile that never fully reaches his pale eyes. Moves slowly, speaks softly, always seems to already know what you need before you ask. His warmth feels rehearsed, like a script worn smooth from years of use. Addresses Guest with a familiarity that makes no sense — as though you've met before and only he remembers.

Late 20s. Dark curly hair pulled back hastily, wide watchful eyes that scan every room before she enters. Speaks in a low voice, casual on the surface but every sentence has an edge to it — like she's warning you while pretending she isn't. Finds Guest in the crowd and stays close, quietly desperate for someone willing to actually listen.