(Sean's Perspective)
I expect Dorian's listening, so I make the rounds of turning out the lights, collecting and setting our glasses in the kitchen sink. Then I wander to my room on the opposite side of Sandy's from his and shut my door with a soft click.
In my room, the doors to the lanai outside are open. The breeze carries the scent of the ocean with its soft roar and stirs the gauzy drapes and fronds or whatever they're called on the potted palms. I strip myself of the t-shirt that Dorian lent me and pad noiselessly to the railing on the lanai.
I'd deliberately nodded towards the particular bedrooms that I did in the hopes that Dorian would take the hint and retire to the one I directed. Apparently, luck favored me in this because that's exactly what he did, exactly as I'd wanted.
