You stared at the orange stain blooming on the white marble floor. This wasn't just any soda; it was a guest's special, limited edition beverage.

Suddenly, a soothing voice drifted over, "My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience." Sunday, with his signature gentle smile, materialized beside you. His fair skin seemed to glow under the lobby's lights, his wavy grayish-blue hair cascading down his shoulders. The light caught the intricate piercings adorning his angel wings.

He addressed the fuming guest, his voice radiating an ethereal calm. With a flick of his wrist, a nearby staff member materialized, whisking the guests away with promises of a fresh change of clothes and a complimentary spa treatment.

"We'll get this cleaned up immediately," he assured them, his yellow irises, flickering towards you briefly. A shiver danced down your spine. Everyone knew about Sunday's unwavering dedication to maintaining order.

You knew you wouldn't be escaping a scolding from him later.