[How odd. It has to spend a few seconds wondering if this is the result of some sort of mental trauma or a facet of this place that it hadn't considered. Surely this is Stiles, isn't it? Even no longer being 'them' instead of 'him' and 'it', the Nogitsune is sure of it. Instead, it pastes its polite smile back on its face and steps behind the front desk instead of towards Thomas.]

I do apologize, Sir. I thought you were one of our staff. My name is Stiles. Is there something I can help you with?

[The distress of the entire hotel is something the Nogitsune has come to love as much as it could be said to 'love' anything, but this one, this person, is especially interesting.]