ETHAN
Ocho, the grumpy imp that seemed to haunt the elevator bay, impatiently tapping his taloned foot on the marble floor, holding out one clawed hand, the fingers moving back and forth in an expectant flurry.
“Gimme, gimme.”
Ethan shook his head. “Sorry, Ocho. I have nothing to tip you with.”
The imp pointed toward the hallway off to the side.
“Let me guess,” Ethan grumbled. “That’s where the gift shop is?”
Ocho nodded and huffed before turning back toward the elevator, pouting and grumbling under his breath.
“Just so you know, this is the only hotel I’ve ever stayed in where people need to tip to use the elevator.”
Ocho’s little red face split into a grin. It was chilling. The imp was something out of a nightmare for Ethan. He was sure someone like Ruby would find him just adora
