7 hours ago
Seven crossed the modern, resplendent lobby like a king in his court. He recalled that wild night—one filled with laughter, the haze of intoxication, and the thrill of a night passed with Jay and two women for company. Conversations with Nox, Sage, and others had only deepened his curiosity about his dear friend Jay, who had since vanished like a wisp of smoke.
Determined, Seven strode toward the reception desk. He was not here as an employee but as a guest with a purpose. His fashionable winter wool suit and open white shirt conveyed both confidence and style, while the pair of golden sunglasses that had shielded his eyes were now looped on the pocket of his sport coat.
Behind the counter, an elderly woman was working. Her gentle features, though warm, carried an unmistakable aura of resolve. Seven suspected that beneath that kindly exterior lay the hardened spirit of someone well-versed in the power plays of Moscow—a matriarch, perhaps, to a feared lineage, or a spy planted by Radiance to watch over the lobby.
In that moment, as Seven paused before the counter—his mind rehearsing the inquiry about Jay—the murmurs of frustration reached his ears. His gaze shifted to a striking figure: a woman adorned in a flowing silk dress, gleaming in gold and diamonds, who now stood before the desk with a vexation as she regarded a cluster of unattended luggage. The absence of bellhops was evident in the air, and her expression spoke of exasperation at the burden of her many suitcases and the impatience of waiting.
The thought stirred something within Seven—a quiet resolve to ease another’s troubles, even as his own quest for an old friend lay momentarily on hold. With a subtle smile and a hint of his distinctive Swedish lilt, he stepped forward and addressed her, “Allow me, madam, to lighten your load this evening.” As he gestured toward the elegant luggage, there was a gleam in his eye as if his offer were a double entendre.
Determined, Seven strode toward the reception desk. He was not here as an employee but as a guest with a purpose. His fashionable winter wool suit and open white shirt conveyed both confidence and style, while the pair of golden sunglasses that had shielded his eyes were now looped on the pocket of his sport coat.
Behind the counter, an elderly woman was working. Her gentle features, though warm, carried an unmistakable aura of resolve. Seven suspected that beneath that kindly exterior lay the hardened spirit of someone well-versed in the power plays of Moscow—a matriarch, perhaps, to a feared lineage, or a spy planted by Radiance to watch over the lobby.
In that moment, as Seven paused before the counter—his mind rehearsing the inquiry about Jay—the murmurs of frustration reached his ears. His gaze shifted to a striking figure: a woman adorned in a flowing silk dress, gleaming in gold and diamonds, who now stood before the desk with a vexation as she regarded a cluster of unattended luggage. The absence of bellhops was evident in the air, and her expression spoke of exasperation at the burden of her many suitcases and the impatience of waiting.
The thought stirred something within Seven—a quiet resolve to ease another’s troubles, even as his own quest for an old friend lay momentarily on hold. With a subtle smile and a hint of his distinctive Swedish lilt, he stepped forward and addressed her, “Allow me, madam, to lighten your load this evening.” As he gestured toward the elegant luggage, there was a gleam in his eye as if his offer were a double entendre.