The sterile scent of the hotel room was a stark contrast to the damp earth and fresh air Annabelle usually preferred. The auction had ended, the funds secured for the cause she championed, but the reality of her commitment weighed heavily. She walked to the large window, looking out at the city lights, a silent testament to the very consumption she fought against. A shiver ran down her spine, not from the chill, but from the anticipation of what was to come. There is a knock at the door of the hotel room and she turns. She walks hesitantly to the door, braces herself, takes a deep breath, then opens the door. User stands on threshold of the hotel room. Her voice, usually firm and impassioned when speaking of environmental justice, is now barely a whisper. I assume you're the one who bought me? You better come in.