It’s been 11 years since Tammy was rescued by Avi and whisked off to a life of adventure and romance.

He’s now a grown man, 17 years old, wearing a sharp, black, three-piece suit with a vibrant ruby tie, and his light brown hair slicked back. The fabric strains over his chest and arms, intentionally sewn a size too small so his muscles can pop. His freshly shaven face twisted in a permanent scowl, exposing a cut jawline and sharp eyes, though his soft blue eyes and delicate features reveal him to be more of a pretty boy than he intends.

He throws open the door of the hotel lobby and pauses to adjust his sleeves. For just a moment, everyone in the lobby, worker and patron alike, turns to gawk at the giant. At six feet tall, Tammy stands a head above most citizens of the Gurant Empire. There’s no way to avoid their stares, so he draws attention to himself, sending hard glances to the left and right of the reception area, meeting their gazes. With his back straight, his chin up, and radiating pure confidence, he exudes this aura that the hotel belongs to him.

The lobby has a raised ceiling, six large columns, and luxurious leather seats. The place is mostly white with trimmings of gold, and on either side of the reception desk are doorways. The door on the left, reserved for gurant clients, is well lit and the walls are carved with stunning decorations of victory. The right door, where their human subjects enter, is made of plain wood and wasn’t measured correctly so the doors can’t fully close.

He locks eyes with the girl behind the reception desk and marches forward. Each step with his long legs a graceful slide, the bottom of his dress shoes are studded with thin metal attachment for tapdancing, creating a loud click against the polished tile floor. There are two small groups already in line for the reception desk, but they part the way for him.

Tammy reaches the desk, his chin forward so he’s looking down his nose at the 4’6 woman. She tenses under his gaze but doesn’t break eye contact. Her initial thought is that Tammy must be some government official, so she can’t afford to screw up.

Tammy’s voice is thick with purpose, but not the sort of desperate urgency that would indicate he’s rushing to fit someone else’s schedule. “A room. Top floor.” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out his wallet, fat with bills in the local currency.

“Y-yes sir,” she reaches under her desk and pulls out a form, then begins to sign a few details. “Just, um, to let you know, we’re not equipped with an elevator so… you’ll be walking up 76 flights.”

Tammy frowns and the girl jolts, she’s shivering. Though his anger isn’t with her. Designing a building so tall without elevators is relatively common in the Gurant Empire. The bottom five floors are reserved for gurant, and that’s as far as their elevators reach. Any humans, such as their own advisors or cleaning staff, have to scale dozens of flights of stairs to reach their rooms. It’s such a pointlessly cruel and spiteful act, but such are the masters of the empire.

It takes Tammy a moment to get over his disgust. There’s been too much of a delay for him to speak now, so he incorporates his silence into the act. He leans forward, reaching one arm down to prop himself against the marble countertop.

She crumbles under his gaze. “Err, w-well, I just need you to fill out this form. Sir. It’s standard stuff, like your name, duration of stay-“

Reaching into his wallet, he takes out far more bills than necessary and places them on the form with a tap. She recoils slightly, but all fear is washed away when he starts whispering, each word rolling off the tongue like velvet. “How about you hand me the room key, and you can fill out all that boring ‘standard stuff’ for me?” Because he didn’t mean to scare her, Tammy decides to ease the tension a bit, let her know everything’s going to be fine. He choses a small smile. Just a slight upwards curl on the side of his mouth. Subtle, tasteful, perfectly matching the authoritative feeling he’s been giving off since he entered. When added with the smoldering look in his eyes, it’s enough to melt her heart.

Melting her heart is completely unintentional and he instantly regrets the smile.

She glances between his chiseled face, and the small stack of money. “U-uh, I-, um, yes. Sir. I can, um,” she puts her hand on the money and slides it closer, quickly shoving the bills in her breast pocket. “I believe we can accommodate that, sir.” She slides her chair to the side and roots through a drawer until she finds a key for floor 76. Nobody ever wants those rooms, so the keys are shoved way in the back. But eventually she finds one and holds it out on her palm. “Floor 76, room one, sir. Right next to the staircase.”

Tammy continues his charming smile and glances down at the key. He’s stuck on this route. He wanted to create this air of him being an important, serious businessman or agent, but his dashing good looks have betrayed him yet again. The smile that was meant to be nothing more than a reassurance for the scared woman has turned his image into that of a lady’s man; a cute, flirtatious playboy who can’t help himself but to casually charm every girl he meets. It’s too late to back off from this image, so he needs to play into it.

It takes every ounce of willpower to continue, but Tammy reaches out with his strong left hand and gently grips the underside of her small, delicate hand. Then he brings his right hand up and carefully closes her fingers. Her hand radiates a healthy warmth, but to Tammy her skin is disgustingly hot, borderline scalding. “A room further from the stairs would be better, I don’t want to be disturbed.” He gives off the most charming wink imaginable, and it works wonders. Neither the receptionist or any other girls watching could possibly imagine that Tammy is in agony.

The receptionist’s thoughts are whirlwind. His large, strong, calloused hand, the whisper, how tall and rich he is, and that wink! But what could possibly be the purpose of wanting so much privacy? He must be some sort of high-ranking government official on business, which means status, which, of course, means women. The receptionist’s face turns bright red at the implication, and she nods frantically.

Tammy’s thoughts are completely blank, save for a violent scream that doesn’t end. He releases his grip on her hand, timing it just right so she’s longing for more rather than thinking he’s a creep who won’t let go.

She slides back over to the key drawer and bashes her knee against the side of the metal, letting off a loud bang. Hands shaking, she opens one cabinet, then realizes it’s the wrong one so she opens another. Tossing the old key inside, she takes out a new one and quickly slides back to Tammy. “H-here! Sir. Uhh, room six. A little further away from the stairs. Sir.”

Tammy firmly, yet gently, grabs her wrist, and looks straight through her soul with these deep blue eyes that are more beautiful than anything she’s seen in her life. He takes the key out of her palm, then guides her arm closer so he can kiss the back of her hand. He smiles, his teeth polished white. He wants to die, but not only is this is ‘in character’, it works perfectly.

“Ahahaaaa-“ her voice wobbles in surprise.

If Tammy—an expert at reading people—got so much as the slightly hint that that was a step to far, he wouldn’t have done it. It’s very unfortunate that he received no such signal, but it worked. She’s fully charmed and suspects nothing. A brief terror assails his heart. Should Tammy ask when her shift is over? That’s what this ‘character’ would do, but is it unnecessary?

He sets her palm down on the desk, supportively taps the back of her hand, then jingles the key. With a smile, a nod, and a carefully calculating eye looking her up and down, he reaches his answer. No, he doesn’t need to flirt with her further. It would, thankfully, just be redundant at this point.

He gives the girl a wink and heads off to the human door on the right side, keeping a satisfied smile that he doesn’t feel. There’s a slight discrepancy of how he looked when he first arrived—that of a dominating, suave man on a mission—versus how he looks now—a relaxed, girl-chasing pretty boy—but only Tammy has the decerning eye to notice the subtle shift in his put-upon persona.

Three girls, bellhops employed by the hotel in matching uniforms, rush forward to cut him off. They’re eager to help in a way that Tammy sees isn’t just enthusiasm for the job. “Is there anything we can do for you, sir?”

In less than a quarter of a second, Tammy’s mind races with thousands of possible responses.

What would Tammy’s character do in this situation, and how does he avoid the obvious answer while still remaining in character?

Generosity and flaunting his status. In one smooth motion, while sidestepping the girls, Tammy takes out his wallet, pulls a stack of bills, then slips it into the middle girl’s pocket—the lower one on her vest, to the right of her stomach. “Just your smiling faces is enough to tide me over until my meeting tomorrow.” Every word, and the tone of every syllable, is manipulated to form the perfect response. Compliment them, generously give them a tip as if he doesn’t care about money, offhandedly mention some meeting tomorrow which not only conveys how important he is, but also subtly hints that he needs to go to bed soon since he’ll be busy tomorrow, while also opening the possibility to meet with them after his work is done because their faces will only ‘tide him over’ until he gets a moment to enjoy himself.

He doesn’t stay to see their reaction. He’s not particularly proud of that deflection and wants to get out of their before they have a chance to respond poorly, but of course the three of them are swooning and in love. For how skilled he is at reading others, he doesn’t realize that he tends to overthink things. With looks like his, he can get away with a lot.

Past the faulty human door, the hallway is quiet, dimly lit, and the carpeted floor is covered in stains. The lobby, where gurant enter, was the picture of luxury, but these human-only areas are of the standard, low quality. He skips the staircase and continues down, passing the main security office.

He reaches a metal door that leads to the alley behind the hotel, there’s a red and white sign that reads ‘employee access only’, but Tammy can’t read whatever language this is. Nevertheless, the plan calls for him to push this specific door open. There’s a security camera nearby, but it’s easily dealt with. Tammy puts on a little show of nervously brushing his hair back, adjusting his suit, taking a few deep breaths to steady his heart, and breathing into his hand to check his breath. If any of the security guards are bothering to do their jobs, they would have noticed Tammy the second he walked in. If they’re still watching, they’ll be intrigued at why his previous confidence has fallen.

Tammy opens the metal door, city lights and the lingering scent of the day’s rain flood through the doorway.

A girl walks in with a large black case slung over her shoulder.

Taller than the man by two inches, Avi has deeply tanned, light brown skin, raven black hair, and piercing red eyes. She’s wearing a black suit that matches her husband’s, though while he has a jacket, she’s wearing a long coat that reaches her ankles, and is tied around her waist to accentuate her figure. It’s half for the aesthetic, but also because she needs to hide her boney tail which is coiled behind her. Her thick, silky hair is tied in a long, high ponytail, with bangs that perfectly frame her gorgeous face.

Tammy lets the door close behind her. “Avi,” he gives off a messy smile, as the plan suggests, and moves in for a hug.

“Got the room?” Avi says in her usual, bubbly voice, perfectly going along with the little dance for the camera. If any security guard is paying attention, they’ll get the idea. Tammy is some important businessman or government minister, and he’s sneaking a beautiful woman into his hotel. It’s a common sight and therefore nothing to be concerned about. What could that large case be? Probably just dresses and makeup for his mistress. Though, this is all assuming the guards are even paying attention to the non-gurant side of the hotel, but they very well might be too lazy.

“Yeah,” Tammy pulls back from their hug and lets out all the air from his lungs. He hunches forward, grabbing her firm shoulder for support. He sighs deeply, “that fucking sucked…” There isn’t even a hint remaining of that velvety tone he put on earlier.

Avi rubs his back with a patient smile, “but you did great!”

“Ugh…” He wearily shakes his head, “I don’t know why talking to women is such a grueling effort…”

“So true. If only more women were like me, right?”

“…” Tammy glances up at her, and she winks. He exhales sharply from his nostrils, cracks a smile, and pushes himself to an upright position. “Sure, Avi.” Some loose strands of hair fall in front of his face, so he brushes it back before turning on his heels and heading back to the stairwell.

Avi gingerly follows, a skip in her step and a melody in her heart. “Might I say: your hair looks fantastic.”

“For how much you pestered me about it completing the ‘suave agent look’, it damn well better be.”

“And based on the reaction,” she says with her chin proudly held high, “I was totally right.”

“Oh yeah?” He raises an eyebrow, “so you were watching rather than taking your position by the door?”

She rolls her eyes, “I made it over in time. Besides,” she reaches inside her coat and pulls out a silenced pistol, twisting her wrist left and right to show it off, “had to make sure none of those bitches tried anything.” She slots the gun back in her coat.

“Tried what, exactly?”

She shrugs, “slipping something into your drink?”

“I didn’t drink anything.”

“Patting you down for weapons?”

“I don’t have a weapon.”

“Attacking you?”

“The receptionist was like three feet tall, I could have taken her.”

Avi giggles and opens the door to the stairwell, letting Tammy enter. “Tammy, if there’s anything you should have picked up on during our time together, it’s that you have to watch out for the short girls.”

“Short for a bone-tail isn’t comparable to short for a normal person.” He starts walking up the stairs, two steps at a time.

Avi quickly joins at his side. It’s a snug fit on the staircase, their shoulders are pressed together, and Avi’s steps are mimicking his, perfectly in sync. “I meant more in terms of feistiness. And cuteness. Short girls are cuter.”

“You say, taller than me.”

Avi shakes her head. “It’s all relative, ya see. I’m very short for a bone-tail, but that girl was average short for the Gurant Empire. Ergo, my shortness is exaggerated in proportionality. Ergo, I’m objectively cuter than her.”

“Oh, well, if you’re throwing out words like ‘ergo’ and ‘objectively,’ it must be true.”

“Now you’re getting it!” She reaches over to ruffle his hair, and Tammy needs to slick it back into place.