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The being currently known as the Doorman steps through a previously nonexistent door and behind the hotel lobby's front desk, and tilts his head at the sight.
Mortals, guest and employee alike, lie scattered all over the room. All of them in deep slumber, lost in the land of sleep. Above the desk and on the floor and across various furniture—a bellboy even managed to lean himself against the hotel's front doors, propped up against the handles with his hat askew.
A scene straight out of a fairy tale. Or a horror movie.
"Hello!" chirps a youthful voice, coming from somewhere below, just out of line of sight.
He bends forward to look over the table, and sees a short figure dressed in a child's nightgown. Glossy midnight black fur, tufted ears, and large pupil-less eyes, round like moons. In one small hand, an old-fashioned chamberstick. In the other, the end of a fluffy pillow in navy blues and purples
A familiar of sleep and dreams.
Certainly not what he expected when The Baroness called his attention towards the front.
"My, what a fascinating little creature."
"I'm not a creature," the little creature says, pout audible despite the fact that his beak doesn't allow for such an expression. "I'm Rem! What's your name?"
"Apologies, Rem. Oh, but where are my manners?" The Doorman's mouth curls into a smile as he puts a hand on his chest, the other behind his back. He bows at the perfect angle to greet such an esteemed guest from so far away. "I am the Doorman."
Rem tilts his head, pupil-less eyes glowing with the soft incandescence of a nightlight. "What's your real name?"
The Doorman chuckles. "I'm afraid most people can't handle my real name."
"But I bet I can!" Rem chirps. "I know how to do lots of things!"
"I bet you do," says the Doorman, smiling agreeably. He looks around the room full of unconscious mortals. "Hm. Very well. But let me whisper it in your ear."
Rem gasps, clutching at his pillow. The child leans in closer, whispering, "Is it a secret?"
The Doorman nods, walking around the reception desk and smoothly folding to kneel on one knee, beckoning for Rem to come closer. The familiar of sleep floats up, furry ear perked up.
"I am T̴̫̭͎̞̣̂ԋ̶̻̼̼͉͓̮̭̬̮͋͝ҽ̸͙̄̾ ̴͇͕͉͔̩͎̪̲͐́͛G̸̛̲͚͕̞̥̻͚͙̓̾͊͗͘͜α̴̢̘̈͋̄̇͂̕ƚ̷͖̩̅̏̉͊̏͘͝ҽ̵̼͎̩̲̒̈̌́̄̓ͅƙ̴̘͑̿̍͆͛̾̔̕͝ҽ̶̧̺͔̮͚̄̔͝ҽ̷̰͉̞̦͈̃ρ̶͎̘͙̠̋̎̇̈ҽ̷̼̣͕̼̂̈́̇̍ɾ̵̜̮̘̱̳̿̒͛̽̽̃̎̕,̸̨͖͖̥̦͖̺̽̈̍͜ ̴̨̛͚̳̱̘̻̔̋̿̒͊̍̀̅͝P̴̦̲͠α̵̢̡͍͙̘̳͙̰̊̆̉̏́̄̑ƚ̴̨̟̰̪͍̳͚̋͋̌͌̄͐́̂ɾ̷̮̳͔͓̯̒̔̋̓̔σ̴̢͒̀̾̓̊ɳ̵̫̜̰͉̮͉̩͊̆̇̏̄ ̸̘̘̰͒σ̵̖̺̱̺͖̳̥̘̱̃̇͆͌̔̌̆͘͝ϝ̴̬̞̜͍̩̥̼̗̺́́̃̒̄̈́͠ ̸̪̲̀̎̚͜P̶̡̯͉̤͔̮͕̆͐α̸̡͔̖̘͕̤͓̭̟̮̈́͝ʂ̷̲̹̤̗̼̱̾̀͒̎̌͑̚ͅʂ̷̝̬͔͚͖̬̘̮̲̈́͝͝ά̶̝̂̎͗̽̕ɠ̸̣͙͓̫͕̭́͊͗̃̈̐̽ҽ̸̜̦͋͂̌ɯ̷̡̩͕͕̦̰̠̬̈́α̴̖̪͍̩͓͚̫̳̼͗̃͜ỷ̶̡̩̥̫̝̥̰̺̜̝̍̓̔̾͘͠͝ʂ̷̢̨̟͔̣̻̦̭̃̓͂̈́͜.̵̧̰̦̗͖̪̬͂̔̈́̀͑̀͜͝͠
Normally, a mortal would go mad the moment that first cabalistic syllable fell from his lips, collapsing into a spasmodic heap as brain tissue leaks from their nose and ears. This being of sleep, however, is immune from such fate; his childlike mind is primed to handle the nonsensical nature of dreams and phantasmagoria, and what is insanity if not nonsense taken to the extreme?
So instead of falling into a screaming fit and clawing his eyes out, Rem simply lands back on his feet and giggles.
"That's not a name, silly!" he says, rocking back and forth on padded feet. "Those were just funny noises!"
The Doorman smiles, endeared. "I know. That is why I refer to myself as the Doorman. Now tell me, Rem. What are you doing here, so far away from home?"
Ears droop down, tiny fists clenching. "I'm… I'm lost." Wide eyes look up at him. "Mister Doorman, can you help me get back home?"
The Doorman's smile drops for the first time during their interaction as he regretfully shakes his head. "Were I in my original state, I would be more than able and happy to open a door for you. But as I am now, I'm afraid my capabilities are rather limited."
"Aww, man," Rem's ears droop even lower, the upper lids of his eyes curving cartoonishly into dismay. "I thought you'd be able to help…"
And oh, that simply won't do.
He can't let his tiny guest be so morose, not while within the walls of the Baroness. Surely, there's something here that can at the very least take the creature's mind off his circumstances, at least for a little while. He looks around, eyes landing on Rem's nightgown—and he perks up with inspiration.
He clears his throat, smiling when Rem peeks up at him. "I can, however, provide you with a tour of the Baroness, if that interests you. I believe it would be very informative to hear your thoughts on how we could better improve our facilities."
Rem tilts his head. "What's the Baroness?"
"Why," the Doorman gestures grandly around them. "This is the Baroness. It is the name of this hotel."
Rem tilts his head again, the other way this time. "And what's a hotel?"
"A place of rest. Mostly for weary travelers such as yourself, but we find that the locals appreciate our services just as much." Pink lips curve into a smile, cyan irises glowing ever so faintly. He leans back in, as if whispering a secret. "Majority of the rooms here are bedrooms, did you know?"
Rem gasps, eyes shining with delight. He leans closer as well, matching the Doorman's faux whispered confession with one of his own. "Bedrooms are my favorite."
"Truly?" The Doorman smiles, clapping his hands together. "Then that's perfect! Perhaps you can help us improve them? So our guests may sleep better."
"Okay!" Another giggle, and Rem levitates, treating his pillow like a miniature flying carpet. The Doorman feels something tether itself to his mortal shell, paradoxically relaxing and energizing his form. As if just waking from a refreshing nap. "Let's go!"
The Doorman smiles once more, before rising to his feet. Rem floats on beside him.
"Do you dream?"
"No, unfortunately. But perhaps one day I'll manage it."
"Do you sleep?"
"Also no. But I can, should I wish to."
"You should try it! It's really fun."
"How so?"
"Well, first…"
The voices of the two immortals fade as they walk through a red door. As it closes behind them, it disappears, and the mortals scattered around the hotel's reception area rouse to consciousness, dazed and confused.