Abagail uses a keycard to open a door leading into a small hallway cut off from the rest of the escort service. Four elegant red doors branch off to the left and right, two on each side. "We used to run all the dolls through here," she says. "Convenient, easy access—all for a small fee of course. The Mistress needs to keep up appearances. Of course we'd change the locations up every so often. Can't get too predictable. I should warn you that this doll is rather…unorthodox." She approaches the furthest door on the right and opens it, revealing a lavishly appointed bedroom. A young mortal sits atop satin sheets reading a paperback. For a moment, you can't be sure of the doll's gender.
You look closely as you approach. "This one is young," you say quietly to Abagail. "Uncomfortably young."
"We hear that a lot about Drew," Abagail says with a soft sigh. "But we also have clients who prefer younger dolls. I know such things may not be of import to the Mistress's associates, but I'm told to assure you that he's above the age of majority despite his looks." She bites her lip. It looks like she's trying to remember something. "Ah, yes. Drew was born into a wealthy family, which should fill your specialized palate's requirements. Tragically, his parents died when he was a baby and circumstances since then have not been kind to him."
"I'm right here, you know. I can speak for myself," Drew says, putting his book down. "I'm not a kid. I can make my own decisions." He's definitely young for this line of work, maybe just a youthful face for his actual age?
Abagail laughs nervously. "We haven't had the time to work on refinements with him yet. You understand?"