Miguel was doing the housekeeping thing. He'd only taken a short nap, but it had been enough to keep him going. The cart he pushed was a trash cart -- he was here to collect broken vases, broken marble, broken...whatever. There was no use in taking inventory: if it was breakable, chances was it had been broken. It seemed he was running back down to the trash collection department after each hallway, and this task was taking forever...
Mess first. Housekeeping later.
Miguel blinked at the boy sprawled out across the hallway. He really wasn't much of a boy, truthfully -- he was probably about Miguel's age. Another victim, perhaps?
"Hola?" Miguel asked, abandoning his trash cans to crouch down beside him. Was he unconscious, sleeping, or just sitting?