Fan Service [Yunho]

12

At the hotel, Dmitri refused to let me carry my bag...again. I rolled my eyes and headed inside before I yelled at him, too. I didn't want to be mad. I just hated feeling useless.

The lobby was...shocker...incredibly nice. The marble tiles on the floor didn't have a single scuff on them and there was water on the entry table labeled "Kiwi essence" whatever the fuck that meant.

The lady at the counter was assisting someone else, so I waited awkwardly until an old man approached me.

"Where's the pool?" he questioned in a rude tone befitting of an old man in a visor with a towel over his shoulder. He had a bluetooth headphone in one ear and a sunburn that was laughable.

"How should I know?" I retorted as I crossed my arms.

"You work here don't you?"

"Why would you think that?" I asked, entertaining him since I had nothing better to do.

"I mean...you obviously can't afford to stay in a place like this," he laughed just as Dmitri walked up. "Even a regular room runs $600 a night."

That amount made me want to throw up, but I held it in.

"We're not in a regular room," Dmitri interrupted him before turning to me. "Yunho's had us upgraded. We're in a penthouse."

"A penthouse?" the man snorted. "You? Her?"

The woman at the counter called us over and the man eavesdropped, listening as she confirmed that we really were upgraded to penthouse suites...separate ones.

"Dmitri," I whispered. "That man said even regular rooms are $600."

"Yes ma'am. The regular room where Mr. Brownstone is staying is $612. Is he a part of your group? I can add him to the block if you'd like. It'll just be an additional $800 per night."

"He's definitely not part of our block," I informed her.

"In fact, he's been quite the nuisance," Dmitri snitched on him. "Said we weren't fit to stay here. I almost had Ateez change the reservation completely."

"I...I apologize!" she fretted. "I can offer a free dinner for the inconvenience," she smiled, worried about being the one to lose business for the hotel even though if we had chosen to leave, it wouldn't be her fault.

"Thank you," I grinned, easing her a bit. "I'd appreciate that."

She gave us our keys and flagged in the system our rooms so we could order a meal later. Mr. Brownstone watched with an angry stare as he marched to the elevator, obviously done with the idea of swimming for now.