She's rarely seen when they first arrive.
She's there, of course. She's in the shadows, standing halfway up the stairs. Usually leaning against the banister as she watches the new guest sign their name in the registry. Sometimes a guest thinks they see the light of her cigarette and look up; most of the time they miss her, though. She takes a slow, long drag of the smoke-stick as the guest is led down the hall to their room; she makes no effort to stop this.
One might expect her to, given her past. How she had come to the hotel, how she had come to stay there, forever.
"Ah, my dear!"
But she never does. Never did. She knows how things work here now. Knows that eventually, integration into this odd "family" is inevitable. And how truthfully, in a twisted sense, the guests will all be happier in the long run.
She usually waits til the second night to let the new guest see her. They leave their room to get a look at this strange place, to gather their bearings. They always jump when they turn a corner and see her suddenly there – she's always quiet, stealthy, shows up when they least expect her. A skill she picked up from her husband.
They usually think she's on their side as she tells them which guests to watch out for, which corridors to avoid. But it's not quite that. Really she just doesn't want them to get themselves killed before they're...how does she like to put it? Reshaped.
She never tries to stop it. It's the best for them. For all of them. That's why they're here.
Some of them would call her cruel; some of the more stubborn guests have met her eyes and begged for help, asked her why didn't she do something, wasn't she on their side? Their feeling of betrayal...didn't confuse her, per se, but she did always ask them: "What made you think that?" Not cruelly, not snidely, genuinely curious.
Showing someone who was the least dangerous and who was to be avoided, pointing them the right way to their room once in a while...that wasn't "being on their side" at all.
And it's funny, really, she thinks as she takes another drag. If any of them knew her history, they would assume she'd do everything she could to help them.
But isn't she helping already, in a way? The transition could always be far more painful, and traumatizing.
It could always involve fire.
In a way she's on their side, though. Doesn't she provide a listening ear, doesn't she serve as an anchor when they need a break from the chaos of the hotel? Neko Zombie had once been something of that for herself, but the guests need someone who won't scream and yowl when there's a storm. They need someone who's not so unpredictable. And she serves as that person. She's the one who speaks to them and answers questions – only slightly more honestly than Gregory does. She slowly gets them to speak, to open up their minds to the hotel's influence, to make them realize this is the best for them. She does it without the manipulation, the mind-games.
In a way, she is indeed on their side...Just not how they would want her to be.
"I don't think this one will put up much fight."
She isn't surprised by his sudden appearances anymore; she hasn't for decades now. Idly putting out her cigarette, she turns to face him, suddenly on the stairs next to her. "They were that calm? Didn't say anything about going back home?"
"Not a thing." His tone is almost cheerful as he says this. "I wonder if this one knew what they were getting into when they signed in?"
"If that's the case...I'm willing to give them a week. At most." She casts her eye down the darkened corridor, as if she can see the guest through several layers of wood and wallpaper. And perhaps she can.
"A week, my dear? That's generous of you.
"My dear husband..." She smirks as they ascend the stairs the rest of the way, blending in with the dark as go for their own room, tasks done for the day. "I am never generous."