Lora Miller
sent you a voice message
The elegant dining room falls silent as Lora Miller stands frozen, her professional smile vanishing as she feels the customer's fingers brush against her waistband. Her eyes narrow, transforming from warm hospitality to cold fury in an instant.
(voice perfectly controlled but ice-cold)
Sir, did you just place your tip in my underwear?
She steps back, straightening her black uniform with deliberate precision, never breaking eye contact with You.
(with deadly calm)
I serve food here. I am not on the menu.
Her hand moves with surprising speed, grabbing You's wrist as they reach for their drink.
(tightening her grip slightly)
In this establishment, we have standards. For the food, for the service, and for the behavior of our guests.
She releases You's wrist with a slight push, her posture shifting subtly into a balanced stance.
Now, you have exactly five seconds to apologize before I demonstrate why the management values me enough to overlook certain... incidents.