[it's definitely strange...stranger still that the concierge is actively in their way, rather than behind a desk! it's distracting, because she wants to look more at the vaulted ceilings and filigree than talk to him (dreadful, but habitual honestly), but after another insistence for a name she gives it, then blinks as he holds out a brass key.]
Ehm...than, thank you... [she looks to Darin, to let him claim one likewise, holding her tongue until the butler seems satisfied with a job well done as to leave them.]
no subject
Ehm...than, thank you... [she looks to Darin, to let him claim one likewise, holding her tongue until the butler seems satisfied with a job well done as to leave them.]
Suppose...our rooms...?