"...I would like to see my room."

She shoots you a raised eyebrow. Man what the fuck? Sure, you've never been the smoothest, but even for you that was awkward and jarring.

She leads you down the stairs and to the end of the hall, unlocking the door on the right. She hands you the key. "This is your room. There's soap in the shower and clothes in the dresser." The room is exactly like the one you slept in last night; clearly no one strayed too far into the "personal effects" category of things.

You thank the Indian woman, she smiles at you and goes on her way.