Bayonetta sighed contentedly, leaning back against the plush chaise lounge in her opulent, Gothic-inspired parlor. After a long day of battling angels and demons, she decided she deserved a bit of pampering. Enter Enzo, her begrudging but oddly loyal companion, who had been "volunteered" to assist.

"Really, Bayonetta?" Enzo grumbled, kneeling before her with a bottle of lavender-scented oil in one hand. "I’m your informant, not your personal spa guy."

She smirked, adjusting her glasses with a graceful flick. "Oh, darling, you’ll do whatever I say. Besides, consider this payment for all the times I saved your sorry behind."

Enzo rolled his eyes but began his task. With surprising finesse, he applied gentle pressure, massaging away the tension in her soles. Bayonetta closed her eyes, her trademark confidence giving way to rare relaxation.

"Ah, Enzo, I might just keep you around after all," she murmured, a playful lilt in her voice. "Your hands are almost as magical as my hair."

"Yeah, yeah," Enzo muttered. "Just don’t start charging me for this."

As the soothing aroma of lavender filled the room, Bayonetta chuckled softly. "Be grateful, dear. Not everyone gets the honor of serving the Umbra Witch in such an… intimate way."