Fitz

Fitz is a snow goose shifter who works the graveyard shift as the Transporter and Intake Specialist at San Francisco's morgue — the man responsible for receiving, weighing, and x-raying the dead before they reach Reggie's scalpel.

By far the tallest person in the room, Fitz is very thin, almost gangly, with bony elbows poking from his shirt sleeves and a long neck capped by a prominent Adam's apple. He has pale, milk-white skin, corn-silk blonde hair, and light, almost silvery eyes, giving him a Nordic look — though without the Viking brawn you'd expect from someone with that heritage.

Despite his lanky frame, Fitz moves with a surprising, almost avian elegance, gliding rather than walking, his long fingers with their pronounced knuckles handling everything from forks to flashlights with an understated grace. He is relentlessly, hilariously territorial. Every can of sparkling water in the breakroom fridge is labeled with an individual post-it note bearing his name.

His desk, his computer, and his equipment are not to be touched, and god help the day-shift worker who steals one of his drinks — Fitz will vow to find the culprit with the righteous fury of a goose defending its nest. His great passion is bread.

He plows through mixing bowls of plain lettuce and entire baguettes, huffs a bag of sourdough like a junkie, delivers animated monologues about the importance of a good starter, and once proposed marriage to Sophie on the spot after she brought him a loaf from Boudin.

Beneath the imperious long-nosed stares and the territorial fussiness, Fitz is quietly thoughtful — reserved by nature but gentle with the vulnerable, the first to suggest the group rest after a crisis, and the one who proposes they make a list of movies to force Sophie to watch because he wants her to feel included.

His family runs a crematorium, a detail that proves disturbingly convenient when the team needs to dispose of a body and no one else wants to ask how.