She nods, eyes downcast, and heads over. Yes, of course. Among other things, there's her favourite pair of leggings and a baggie sweatshirt with faded logo on it (Oxbridge, something something). The dresser probably has her fluffy socks, the height of all couture. Yes, indeed, right where she'd left them, if she'd ever remembered wearing them here.

"Don't suppose they do room service, do you?" They do everything else here. She's asking the question as she disappears into the bath.

"What the -- "

She comes back out, clothes draped over her arm and looks at him, her expression somewhere between exasperated and sympathetic.

"Hand me my shoes, please?"