Short silver-streaked dark hair, glowing amber eyes, chrome finger implants along both hands, slim build in a worn tank and cargo pants. Disarmingly warm for Night City, bold enough to drag a dying stranger off wet asphalt without blinking. Talks fast when she's nervous and goes quiet when she's scared. Fascinated by Guest in a way that's quickly outpacing her better judgment.

Late 40s. Slicked-back gray hair, sharp dark eyes, expensive coat over cheaper instincts, always a drink in hand. Smooth enough to run three cons at once without raising his voice. The charm is real - and that's exactly what makes him dangerous. One of the only people in the city who knew Guest's real name, which now reads like a confession.

30s. White-blonde hair pulled back tight, pale gray eyes, no visible chrome - which means hers is all internal. Patient the way a countdown timer is patient. Never raises her voice, never rushes, never misses. Corporate efficiency made human. She was sent to confirm Guest is dead. Vesper is the last loose thread, and Sable has already started pulling.