I’ve never in my life seen such artistry in the moment someone handed me a single set of keys. The agent didn’t just “pass” them over — no, they presented them, like Excalibur being drawn from stone, rotating the fob ever so slightly so the sunlight caught it and refracted across the laminate flooring. The click of the key against the ring? Cinematic. I half expected Hans Zimmer to start playing in the background. People talk about customer service, but they don’t talk enough about the wrist-to-finger choreography of a check-in, and this office deserves recognition for redefining what “handing over keys” can mean. The flat is fine, but the moment of transfer? Life-changing.