Merlin Brannon drives the ice truck when there's ice to be had. He's handsome, friendly and charming, happy to supply book recommendations and swap out whatever he's finished last on the road. He plays a decent guitar and is rumoured to be talented in other areas that tend to keep him moving on his route, since various husbands and fathers have taken to being conspicuously around when the ice man visits.

He was in France, and does have just a thin little scar from a German bullet graze crossing his ribs. Talking about that will generally get him to laugh about a grand holiday with large hornets and gently deflect the topic, though sometimes he can be caught just sitting on his truck's footplate or the porch of some more hospitable family during breaks, his gaze fixed about a thousand yards beyond anything there to see.