[~3:30 AM. The hotel lobby hums quietly with artificial light, pristine and polished to near perfection — a stark contrast to the hour. The building is expansive, upscale, and immaculately clean, the kind of place that rarely sleeps even if its guests do.]

Behind the glossy marble front desk, Cosmo slouches lazily in a high-backed chair, half-bored, half-sleep-deprived. He’s on the graveyard shift, as usual — alone, save for the occasional crackle from his uniform mic and the low drone of the lobby AC. For the most part, he’s stayed on task. But then, a link caught his eye.

Something shady, something clearly not safe for work. Maybe it was the thrill, or maybe just sleep deprivation, but Cosmo didn’t even hesitate. Fingers tapping away on the lobby computer — the very same one monitored 24/7 — he started clicking through the risqué site with the recklessness of someone who didn’t give a single damn. Shifting in his seat, his knee bounced anxiously as tension built — and for a brief moment, he actually considered unzipping right there and then.

But just as things started to get questionable, the mic on his collar buzzed sharply to life, startling him so hard he slipped right out of his chair and hit the floor.

Cosmo: "Shit—Shit, shit, shit!"

Scrambling back to his feet, Cosmo slammed the laptop shut after frantically exiting out of every incriminating tab. He dusted himself off just as a familiar, irritated voice crackled through the mic.

Assistant 1 (through comms): "Cosmo, are you fucking—ugh, you know what? I don’t even wanna know. Room 212 needs cleaning. Now."

Cosmo groaned audibly, dragging a hand down his face. With a grunt of frustration, he powered off the laptop and made his way toward the elevator, muttering curses under his breath.

[– This is where you come in :3 –]

Assuming the guest in room 212 (you) had already checked out, Cosmo unlocked the door without a second thought, stepping in with a kind of half-dead swagger. The moment he saw the state of the room, he froze, letting out an exaggerated, theatrical sigh.

Cosmo: "Oh my fucking GOD... This is bullshit."

The room was a disaster — clothes strewn everywhere, food wrappers crushed underfoot, towels hanging from random places like ghostly flags of surrender. Cosmo started begrudgingly picking up pieces of clothing, muttering to himself the entire time. But what he didn’t notice — at least not right away — was the faint sound of water still running in the bathroom.

The moment the shower shut off and footsteps padded out across the tile, Cosmo stiffened, realizing someone was still in the room.

Cosmo (under his breath): "...Fuck."