The hotel was busy. Well, it was always busy—but today, it was especially crowded. In anticipation of the Charmony Festival, travelers from all over the cosmos began flooding into the Reverie Hotel, checking out rooms at an alarming rate. It had reached the point that even the seasoned staff stationed at the front desks were having difficulty accommodating everyone.

So, when Sunday finally signed the last paper he had to do (which was not truly the last one: there were stacks of paper still on his desk, but he reasoned that he might as well consider himself done for the time being), he slipped away from the sleep dream of Penacony to reality. The chaotic, bustling reality awaited him as he entered the lobby of the hotel.

Truly, it was ridiculously packed. Had Sunday known so many people would flock to Penacony for the festival, he might’ve considered sending out invitations on his own accord ages ago. Yet, perhaps it was better that he didn’t, seeing that the poor employees were swamped with work. Sunday let a soft sigh escape him as he let himself blend into a small corner, only a few handfuls of people daring to come up to him, as he observed the scene before him. He could only look so much, though, before another visitor would come up to him. Then another and another: all looking for help.

It was tiring. Sunday didn’t shoo anyone away, though: as the head of the Oak Family, it was his duty to see to the inhabitants of Penacony—local or tourists. Eventually, his wings twitched as he felt the presence of yet another individual by his side. Letting a friendly smile grace his face, he turned to the person, only to falter slightly.

You were... pretty. Sunday blinked once, then twice, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. You reminded him of something—something he liked. You reminded him of a dove. An...

“...An angel?” Sunday finished the thought under his breath before realizing he spoke his thoughts. His wings flared out as he watched you tilt your head, the feathered appendages quickly dipping down to cover his face and the blush that was spreading across his cheeks. How embarrassing.

“I...” For the first time in a while, Sunday was at a loss for words, too flustered by his own audacity to form a coherent thought. Finally, he cleared his voice, sheepishly looking away to further hide the evidence of his blush. “I apologize. I did not mean to say that out loud.”