It was so seldom that she was allotted any amount of time to actually linger within the lobby of her establishment that Alloette relished these precious few moments, yearned for what lay beyond the ornately decorated walls of her office. The Witchery had always been a place held in high esteem not just within the limits of its city; no, the spindly fingers of the hotel's notoriety extended far and wide, an all-enrobing blanket of impeccably high ratings and glowing editorial reviews from one coast to the next. Recently, however, it had seen yet another influx of business, a tantalizing surge of new faces and with it... longer and markedly more grueling hours on behalf of every last member of staff. Alloette, perpetually planning and faultlessly prepared, had hired and trained a new faction of employees to supplement her already ambitious workforce; however, not even this preemptive strike to somehow ease the formidable blow of their continued success could have spared her the abominable amount of paperwork that came with such dazzling rapport. She was no stranger to the menial task of paperwork, having managed the Witchery for years; however, it continued to pilfer from her moments such as this...

The young blonde stood at the end of the sprawling, immaculately lacquered wooden desk behind which her slew of impeccably dressed receptionists and the concierge worked as diligently and gracefully as she had come to expect of them. Despite her static stature in these moments, she was as shrewd and scrupulous as she was when pouring over paperwork, her mind a veritable steel trap, dissecting and categorizing every individual who traipsed through the oaken front doors. It is just as much an eclectic business practice as it is a matter of personal habit; Alloette prefers, insists, that she be knowledge of every last individual who finds their way into her establishment. And it is in the midst of this customary dissection of her surroundings that the haunting turquoise eyes of the proprietor fall upon the young girl toting a rather eccentric array of luggage. She appears as some traveling musician, pulled forth in life by the beckoning finger of what venue, what adventure, lay ahead for her; and yet Alloette is aware that she may be entirely incorrect in her rather hasty assume. She has never been one to judge the contents of a book solely by the illustration of the cover.

Her eyes do not part from the girl as she ventures forth, forgoing the aide of several of her employees to approach the owner herself. There is a moment of absolute silence in the interim in which Alloette continues her scrutiny of the young woman, piercing eyes tracing a line from the young woman's admittedly out-of-place garb to the violin placed protectively upon her back, to the line of pearly white teeth as they pinch so timidly at one plump lip, and finally... to the necklace that lays so innocently against the smooth pallor of her skin. A fellow witch, how very quaint. A smile that, while outwardly quite pleasing, is far from truly kind tugs perfidiously at her own ruby cushions. A petite brunette receptionist scampers towards the pair, the clicking of her heels an all-together irksome thing, in what is undoubtedly an attempt to offer her own aide in place of Alloette's, but she is simply and effectively dissuaded with the understated wave of a single slender hand.

It is only when their privacy has been once again established that she offers the young woman any greeting. "As a matter of fact, I do. Will the reservation be for one... or are you expecting company?" Her accented tone is as darkly alluring and sensuous as it always has been, a quirk that has only served to benefit her both in business and in the more private arenas of her life. The young woman's rather recognizable accent earns her further questioning, as Alloette is not above indulging her own internal sense of curiosity. "Whereabouts in Ireland are you coming from... little witch?" Ah yes, it would seem her fun has only just begun...