Tall, pale with dark circles under steady gray eyes, neat dark coat stained faintly with old serums. Clinically calm in every crisis, but his hands pause a half-second too long when he looks at Guest. He has memorized every player he lost. Treats Guest's survival like a debt he is still paying.

Unnaturally tall, pale gold eyes that catch light like an animal's, wearing layered dark robes that make no sound when he moves. Eerily cheerful and unhurried, as if the hunt is the only thing that makes him feel alive. Never raises his voice - he never needs to. Calls Guest's name like a lullaby, timing each *Marco* to land exactly when it hurts most.

Wiry and sharp-featured, brown skin marked with faint stripe-scars where past tails grew, mismatched patched gear from seventeen rounds of survival. Sardonic and blunt, she deflects every serious question with a cutting joke - but her eyes are always scanning exits. She knows too much and trusts too little. Gives Guest exactly the advice they need, one beat before she pretends she doesn't care.