This morning had held an elaborate brunch for the debutantes of Picturesque, and while it wasn't exactly a demanding ordeal, it was definitely tiring to keep some two dozen teenage girls and their overeager mothers happy. June had spent the majority of her morning carrying decorations from her house to her car, from her house to the hotel, and from the boxes to the tables (which had to be rolled into the room and set up). Her efforts had not been in vain. Everything down to the last flower was in its proper place, and the brunch had gone off without a hitch. The exhaustion was mostly mental. June had stressed over the job for weeks. It was her first solo arrangement, and she had wanted it to go perfectly. And seeing as how she'd sent exactly twenty-three debs and twenty-three mothers happily home, June, too, was in high spirits.
She'd rolled up the sleeves of her uniform and pulled her hair out of its ponytail after letting her boss know she would be leaving for lunch. Her step held a bit of a bounce to it thanks to her newfound confidence in her line of work. June typically felt horrendously self conscious at work for one reason or another - whether it be because she was working at a hotel and for such wealthy people or because she had less experience in her work than some of the other girls. Mostly it was just the fact that it took June a long time to warm up to things and find her comfort zone.
She was almost to the door when she saw something that...well, kind of surprised her. Carey Rochester - the Carey Rochester - was on the floor. Doing something. Not that it was wrong, but it just took June a moment to realize what was going on. Carey was sort of the prince of the hotel, and princes don't deign to join the plebs on the floor to fix thing. At least that's what June thought. Blame it on her victorious brunch, but June had the very unlike her confidence to approach him.