The first time is always the worst.

Always. You'll wake up shaking, limbs unresponsive. And when they finally do start working, you'll be like a baby deer, staggering around, because your limbs'll feel new.

You'll feel like a newborn.

And in a sense, that's what you'll be.

Don't try to act brave. You'll be scared. Shocked. How did you get into a hotel room when you were just in the middle of a gunfight?

You're not going to understand it. So you'll use your feeble little deer legs to lurch into the bathroom, stare at yourself in the mirror, just to know it's you. To know that this isn't some sick joke.

You'll see your prettyboy face in the mirror, and you'll feel so relieved. So happy.

Maybe at some point, maybe the tenth time, maybe later—you don't seem like the contemplative type. No offense. But at some point, you'll wonder if it is really you, or if you've been jolted back to life or had your body put back together so many times that parts of you are missing.

Maybe you're not all you.

Maybe you belong to us.

But please do put those thoughts out of your mind. We're just here to help you.

You want me to go back to the briefing? Alright. Well, eventually an attendant will come in and tell you you need to drink a lot of water, and she'll ask if you want food.

You probably won't. You'll be rather nauseated from the shock/reconstruction. But if you are stupid enough to eat, you'll just throw it back up. Please do this in the toilet. It just makes things that much harder for housekeeping if you don't.

We'll keep you until we feel that you're fit to return to the world of the living.

Yes, you're alive in the hotel. Why the fuck—oh, I'll let it go. You're not worth it.

Apologies, sir. But our service is quite useful, you must admit. I wouldn't be rude to the service, or we may keep you for longer than you want.

You'll be fine, until you die again. This will happen again and again, to the point where dying will seem meaningless. So long as you keep paying us, death shouldn't have to mean a thing.

I am supposed to warn you of one thing.

Repeated use of our systems…well, some guests develop an addiction to it.

…to dying. You're thicker than you look. If this happens, you'll essentially function the same way as you do when you stay with us the first time…all the time.

Which won't be pleasant.

At that point, you won't be able to function. This happens to very few guests though.

You don't have to worry. (But it wouldn't be so bad if it happened to you)

So do you want me to book a room?

Very good, sir.

Have a nice life!

We'll ensure that your resurrection is as pleasant as it can be.

A/N: All decent length non-RG reviews will be returned.