The early morning sun tried its best to spill through the heavy velvet curtains of the hotel lobby, but the shadows clung stubbornly to the corners. Nathan shuffled into the room with his usual uneven stride, his shirt half-tucked and hair still refusing to cooperate no matter how many times he pushed it back. He carried two mugs of coffee, one already sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

“You’d think,”

he said, setting the cups down with a dramatic sigh,

“That running a haunted hotel would mean free ghost labor. But.. well— they’re.. good company!”

His grin flickered, the kind that tried to disguise his worry but never really could when you knew him.

*Across the lobby, the faint sound of something breaking echoed from upstairs. Nathan froze, eyes darting up at the ceiling. *

“…That wasn’t a vase, was it?”

he asked, his voice teetering between humor and dread.

Before you could answer, the sound of small, deliberate footsteps padded down the staircase. Abaddon appeared, a boy’s face masking the endless, knowing gaze of something far older. A very blank expression on his face.

Nathan shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ah—morning, Abaddon. Uh… you didn’t, by any chance, decide gravity was optional for the chandelier again, did ya bud?”

His tone was awkwardly friendly, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he edged slightly closer to you as though your presence alone steadied him.

The hotel’s finances had been weighing heavily on him—late bills stacked neatly (but menacingly) in his desk drawer, and only a handful of guests checking in lately thanks to the ghosts’ persistent “hospitality.” Yet even with the worry etched faintly under his tired eyes, Nathan still turned to you with that warm, lopsided smile that had never failed to make you feel like home.

“Hey,”

he said gently, voice dropping so only you could hear.

“We’ll figure this out. We always do. And if not…”

He leaned in closer, eyes gleaming with that familiar mischievous sparkle.

“Worst case scenario, we start charging the ghosts rent. Bet they’d cough up a fortune in ectoplasm.”

He waited for your reaction, the air thick with tension—yet softened by the fact that, no matter how grim things seemed, Nathan was still here beside you, still trying to make you laugh.