The trick for me has always been to figure out the character's relationship to inconvenience. You can map out a backstory and a trauma and a list of likes and dislikes, but how they react when the Wi-Fi cuts out or they spill coffee on their shirt tells you more than any of that. Are they the type to meticulously dab at the stain with a napkin, getting more frustrated as it spreads? Or do they just shrug, throw the shirt in the back of the closet, and forget about it? Those tiny, low-stakes reactions build a person. I also try to give them one opinion that's slightly off-key, something they'd argue about at a dinner party that has nothing to do with the main plot. Maybe they passionately believe a hot dog is a sandwich, or they think the film adaptation of 'Dune' missed the point of the stillsuits. It's a detail that doesn't serve the story, but it serves the character, making them feel like they existed before page one and will keep existing after the last page.
Don't be afraid of contradictions, either. Someone can be fiercely brave in facing down a monster but utterly terrified of calling to make a dentist appointment. That gap between their heroic self and their mundane anxieties is where authenticity lives. I often write a scene that will never be in the book where the character is just doing laundry or trying to assemble flat-pack furniture. You learn a lot about their patience levels, their problem-solving, and their internal monologue when they're missing a screw.