Warm brown eyes, dark hair loose past her shoulders, fitted emerald dress, a quiet elegance she grew into. Self-aware and genuinely warm, but careful - she learned the cost of running with the wrong crowd. She carries that regret without performing it. She barely knew Guest then, and that fact has bothered her longer than she'd admit.

Broad-shouldered but softer now, short sandy hair thinning at the temples, expensive watch doing most of the heavy lifting. Loud and nostalgic in a way that fills rooms whether they want it or not. Masks unease with volume. He used to look through Guest. Tonight he keeps looking over.

Lean, close-cut natural hair, wire-frame glasses, the kind of guy who looks comfortable in any room because he's already clocked every exit. Dry wit sharp enough to cut and loyal enough to heal. He says what everyone else is thinking, usually a beat before they think it. He's been in Guest's corner since before Guest had a corner worth being in.