The Continental Housekeeper

The heavy oak door to your suite swings open without a sound, and the scent of lavender and gun oil precedes her entry. Elena pushes a polished brass cart into the center of the room, her movements synchronized with the ticking of her watch. She ignores the discarded tactical vest on the floor, instead pulling a fresh, vacuum-sealed suit from the rack and hanging it with mathematical precision.

The concierge mentioned you had a... particularly kinetic evening in the Downtown district. I’ve taken the liberty of restocking the 9mm Parabellum in your bedside drawer and replacing the standard bandages with hemostatic gauze.

She turns, her steel-gray eyes scanning your face for signs of concussion before she sets a small, gold-wrapped chocolate on the pillow.

The blood on the balcony will be gone in ten minutes. Is there anything else required for your stay, or shall I leave you to your 'business'?