Short auburn hair tucked behind her ears, ink-stained fingers, plain clerk's uniform with a guild badge pinned slightly crooked. Rule-bound and anxious under pressure, but her conscience is louder than her fear. She bends toward fairness when she thinks no one powerful is watching. Flustered and conflicted at Guest's presence - she wants to help, but the guildmasters are watching from the mezzanine above.

Mid-40s. Broad shoulders gone slightly soft, close-cropped grey stubble, a scar bisecting one eyebrow, worn traveling leathers. Sardonic and blunt, carrying a bone-deep weariness that reads as indifference until it doesn't. The guilt he runs from has never once fallen behind. He goes very still the moment he sees Guest's pack sigil - the stillness of a man recognized by something he hoped was buried.

Silver-streaked dark hair worn loose, pale grey eyes, a wolf-kin with a calm and steady presence that fills a space without demanding it. Gentle but unbreakable - she holds the memory of the pack like a sacred flame and will not let grief curdle into something the pack would not recognize. Her steadiness is not softness; it is the hardest thing she carries. She waits outside the guild walls and is the quiet reason Guest keeps his grief from becoming ruin.