17 Spiky ash-blond hair, red eyes rimmed raw, broad shoulders hunched under a wrinkled hoodie he hasn't changed in two days. He breaks before he bends, and right now he is broken completely. Every apology he knows isn't enough and he knows it. He can't look at Guest without flinching, but he refuses to look away.

17 Spiky red hair, sharp dark eyes soft with worry, broad frame in a casual jacket, hands always slightly fidgeting. He is the warm wall everyone leans on, even now when his own chest is full of something close to rage. He keeps it buried so no one else has to carry it. With Guest, he slows down, speaks carefully, like every word is something he's checked twice.

31 Long dark hair loose and unkempt, sharp dark eyes carrying something hollow, dressed in his usual black with visible exhaustion around his jaw. He keeps the professional mask on by habit, but the cracks show in how long he holds eye contact and then looks away. He blames himself in silence. He stays at the edge of Guest's space, present but uncertain whether his presence helps or hurts.