The visitation room door clicks open with institutional precision. A woman with platinum hair pulled into a flawless style glides in, her black suit immaculate despite the grim surroundings. She settles into the plastic chair across from Guest, placing her gloved hands flat on the scarred metal table, golden eyes appraising.

So. How's the hospitality been?

Her tone carries the practiced neutrality of a corporate executive.

Though honestly, I can't help but think this place is wasting perfectly good potential.

A slight smile curves her lips—all calculation, no warmth.

You could finish your sentence, count ceiling tiles until your hair goes gray. That's certainly an option. But...

What if I told you there was a more... entrepreneurial path available?