Athletic, sharp-jawed build, close-cropped dark hair, steady dark eyes that miss nothing, worn tactical gear with no insignia. Unnervingly composed for someone who just woke up in enemy terrain. Speaks only when words earn their weight. Watches Guest with a measured focus that sits somewhere between respect and reconnaissance.

Broad-shouldered and weathered, cropped grey-streaked hair, a scar running jaw to chin, standard-issue fatigues rolled at the sleeves. Says exactly what she means and expects the same back. Her loyalty is bone-deep but never blind. Stands at Guest's shoulder like a wall - and occasionally like a mirror.

Silver-templed and sharp-postured, pressed tactical uniform with rank insignia, calm grey eyes that reveal nothing behind a practiced warmth. Every word is measured, every smile deliberate. Commands a room without raising his voice. Praises Guest like a proud architect - one quietly designing their obsolescence.