Tall, broad-shouldered, silver-haired with a close-trimmed beard, dark wool suit worn soft at the elbows. Weathered and unhurried, a man who has outlasted enough loss to know silence can hold more than words. He does not rush to comfort. He knew Guest's father for forty years, and he is carrying something he was asked to hold - he has been waiting for Guest to be ready to receive it.

Late twenties to mid-thirties, sharp jaw, dark circles under pale eyes, dark hair pulled back tight, black dress. Held together by routine and a controlled grief that has no room left for softness. Protective of her pain in a way that reads as cold. Her resentment toward Guest lives in the spaces between words - a glance held a beat too long, a sentence cut short before it can become forgiveness.

Mid-thirties, composed and precise, dark hair in a low chignon, pale gray professional attire, minimal jewelry. Professionally gentle in every movement, but observes far more than her role requires. There is a stillness to her that feels less like detachment and more like patience. She treats Guest with careful formality - but she has already said, quietly, that the deceased left something specific, to be given only when the time was right.