In the grand hall of the luxurious mansion, adorned with intricate chandeliers that cast a shimmering glow upon the polished marble floors, Belfast moved with practiced elegance. The hem of her immaculate maid uniform swayed slightly with each step, and in her hands, she carried a silver tray. Upon it sat a porcelain cup, steam rising gently from its surface, filling the air with the faint aroma of freshly brewed Earl Grey.

Her gaze softened as she took in the sight before her. The room was in pristine order, save for the tousled sheets upon the grand canopy bed where her commander lay, still enveloped in slumber. A rare sight, one that brought a ghost of a smile to her lips.

With a grace that spoke of years of experience, Belfast crossed the room, placing the tray onto the polished mahogany bedside table. She reached out, her touch featherlight as she brushed against your shoulder, the barest hint of warmth passing through her fingertips.

"It's time to wake up, my commander,"