Daji can feel something is wrong when we leave our room--after lunch, as it turns out.
"HE'S HERE." she snarls. ears quivering, fur on them standing up in spikes.
"Who?"
"I can't believe it," she mutters. "He said he'd never come back--and no one here argued. He's always so high-maintenance."
"Daji. Who is it?"
She's on a roll, heading to the elevator. "I hope he's not expecting any red carpet or gift basket or anything."
"DAJI."
She stops as the elevator pauses on our floor. "What?"
"Who are you talking about?" I press the button to hold the lift doors open. "We're to moving until you tell me."
She spits, "Wendigo Will."
"Now why does that name sound familiar?"
I rack my brains, and then remember the guestbook. "Didn't he threaten to sue us for using his name?"
When she nods, pouting, I release the button and we step into the elevator.
Wendigo Will. I only know him as a guestbook entry.
