"Ms. Dubois, this is Randall with the Concierge downstairs. We're just calling ahead to make sure you're home because we'll be bringing up a package."
"Uh, yes Randall, thank you." Odd. I don't recall any reason that I should have a package.
I continue trying to pick at the popcorn I just made for brunch until there's a knock at the door. I don't even have to call out to them to identify themselves as I can hear a muffled yell from the other side of the door, "Concierge."
Pulling back the worn oak I see the suited man I assume to be Randall holding out a black box with a golden bow wrapped around it. It's the type of box you get when a store wraps up your purchases for you, small and flat. Running my hands over it I can tell that it's some kind of velvet or velour. I know where this comes from based on the packaging alone. It's from Sin.
