Tall, gaunt frame, dark circles under pale gray eyes, heavy wool coat dusted with frost at the collar. Grief has carved him down to something sharp and single-minded. His voice stays quiet even when he's pushing hardest. Sees Guest as the lock on a door he is determined to open, one way or another.

Ageless and worn, white-streaked hair pulled back, oil-stained hands, eyes that catch light like old copper. Speaks rarely and only in half-finished warnings, as if full sentences cost too much. Loyal to the train in a way that borders on devotion. Watches Guest without blinking, measuring — always measuring.

13, wiry and quick, tangled brown hair, wide dark eyes that miss nothing, patched coat two sizes too big. Fills silence with questions and danger with bravado. Clings to honesty like it's the only warm thing left. Has decided Guest is trustworthy, which means she follows them everywhere.