She groaned and managed to open an eye. “Victor,” she frowned in the vacuum between sleep and memory, and then flinched.
“It is alright, Mira,” he encouraged gently. “Come on, out of bed. Have a shower. Aaron’s here and I have ordered room service,” he scooped her out of the bed and set her on her feet in front of the bathroom, shuffling her into the room and starting the shower for her. “I will bring you in some clothes,” he told her.
He had just closed the bathroom door when the doorbell rang. He admitted room service and sent them to where Aaron and Vice were both on calls. As they set out the food, he pulled the bed into order, and opened the closet, flicking through the clothing inside. Typical tour wear, he noted. Her crew would have the costumes for stage, so her closet contained two extremes – outfits for interviews and comfortable wear for around the hotel.