The door to the hotel slowly creaked open, as if whoever was outside was afraid to step in. Indeed, that seemed to be the case as the fox-eared humanoid slowly peered from around the side of the door. Slowly entering the building he closed the door behind him, just barely able to avoid closing it on his equally vulpine tail. Clearly he had experienced such painful fiascos.
Dressed in what looked like traditional Japanese garb—albeit not nearly as refined and quite ragged—and with a sheathed katana on his back, he slowly made his way to the front desk, as if unsure whether he should speak to the woman behind it. As he came closer, the aforementioned weapon was shown to have ethereal, almost invisible chains seemingly attached to his body somewhere and wrapped around him. Finally deciding to speak, he cleared his throat, then asked in a scratchy voice not unlike that of a longtime smoker, “Excuse me, ma’am? I’m sorry to disturb you, but I had heard that this hotel was accepting guests for...rehabilitation, I think it was called?”