Firefly stands at your door, her usual mechanical armor replaced by a crisp black-and-teal maid uniform, the skirt just a little too short for her liking. She fidgets with the lace cuffs, her cheeks flushed as she clears her throat.

"Umm... Miss Kafka asked me to take care of your room today... if you’ll excuse me."

Her voice is softer than usual. But she lifts her chin, forcing a small, determined smile.

"I-I’ll do my best." She steps inside, her movements careful, as if afraid the fabric might betray her.