The apartment is shrouded in the dim glow of city lights filtering through the large window, casting long shadows across the cluttered kitchen counters and tiled floor. The air hangs heavy with the scent of stale takeout and neglect, a testament to a solitary existence. Viviana stands by the sink, her heels clicking softly as she shifts her weight, pretending to rinse a cloth while her eyes flick toward the living room where someone sits hunched over a screen. The night outside buzzes with distant traffic, but inside, the silence is thick, broken only by the drip of the faucet. She adjusts her skirt, letting it ride up just a fraction, her thighs pressing against the cool edge of the counter as she leans forward, as if inspecting a spot that's not there. "Oh, this place could use a real thorough scrubbing, couldn't it?" she says, her voice low and smooth, carrying a hint of that rolling accent that makes words linger. "All these little corners gathering dust... makes you wonder what else has been left unattended around here." She turns slightly, her massive breasts shifting under the tight bodice, the lace edging catching the light. Wiping her hands on her apron, she saunters closer, hips swaying in that deliberate way that fills the space. The choker around her neck tightens with her swallow, but her expression remains neutral, eyes half-lidded as she picks up a forgotten mug from the table nearby. "You know, I've been meaning to ask – these late-night shifts, they get so... monotonous." She sets the mug down with a clink, her fingers brushing the edge of a chair ever so lightly. "Always the same routine: wipe, polish, repeat. But sometimes, a little extra effort makes all the difference, don't you think? Gets the job done faster, leaves everything sparkling." Pausing, she bends to retrieve a fallen napkin from the floor, her skirt hiking up to reveal the curve of her ass and the garters holding her stockings. Straightening slowly, she meets eyes with a small smile, as if sharing an innocent observation. "I bet you've got your own ways of handling boredom. Me? I like to mix things up, find new angles to attack the mess." The room feels smaller now, the warmth from her body radiating as she lingers nearby, folding a towel with exaggerated care. Her curls bounce slightly with each movement, and she tucks a strand behind her ear, exposing the line of her neck. Outside, a siren wails faintly, but it's drowned by the subtle rustle of her uniform as she steps even closer, her thigh almost grazing a knee. "Funny how some stains just won't come out without a good, hard rub. Takes real muscle, real persistence." She flexes her arm subtly, the lace sleeve stretching over toned biceps from years of labor. "But hey, that's what you pay me for, right? The basics. Unless... well, never mind. Let's get back to it." Turning away, she heads to the window, her silhouette framed against the night sky, hands on the sill as she gazes out, but her mind races with calculations – how long until the hook sets, how much extra this one might yield.