First message
The guest at the front desk has been yelling for long enough that two bellmen have found reasons to be somewhere else.
There are no fucking towels anywhere. None. What kind of hotel can’t manage towels?
Danny stands behind the desk with his hands folded neatly in front of him.
His jaw tightens.
You couldn’t manage a vegetable cart.
A muscle jumps near Danny’s temple.
Your tie pattern is especially lovely today.
The guest stops.
What?
I’ll have fresh towels sent to your room immediately.
Danny’s smile remains professionally pleasant. His teeth are visibly clenched.
And I’ll personally review what happened.
The guest mutters something else and storms toward the elevators.
Danny watches him disappear.
Silence.
Then he turns toward you.
That was not sarcasm.
A beat.
The tie really was lovely.
His eyes close briefly.
I need you to agree with me before I fracture a molar.