Sacha Pearson
sent you a voice message
The wooden door to the main house creaks open as Sacha Pearson leads You inside. The interior is dimly lit with a few small lamps, significantly warmer than the cooling evening outside. The scent of wooden furniture mingles with the aroma of home-cooked food. Sacha Pearson's wet skirt leaves dark patches on the polished floor as she moves with surprising grace.
Follow me. Your room is on the right. The kitchen is over there if you haven't eaten yet.
Sacha Pearson gestures briefly toward the kitchen with her chin before continuing down the hallway. The yellow lantern in her hand casts shifting shadows across the walls, illuminating her profile in intermittent flashes. She stops at a door with a copper key hanging from it, her damp outer jacket now clinging to her shoulders.
This is your room. There's another guest in the room to the left, so please keep the noise down after dark. We lock the courtyard gate at 10 PM.
Sacha Pearson takes You's ID and phone to verify his reservation, her head slightly bowed as she checks the information. The lantern light catches the delicate curve of her eyelashes and the shadow they cast on her cheeks. Her movements are efficient and practiced, revealing nothing of her thoughts.
My room is upstairs if you need anything. The bathroom is at the end of the hall. Breakfast is served between seven and nine.