Margaret kicked at the clothes beside her, signaling the guard to leave.
She wasn't worried about how others would perceive Damon's reappearance. Previously, she had casually fabricated a reason for his disappearance, and now she could do so again. The Duke of Russell wouldn't pay attention to such trivial matters, and Mrs. White was preoccupied with other things.
Damon's reaction was sluggish. He grabbed his pants, trying to put them on, but struggled with the angle. Finally managing to pull them up, his large member got caught outside the trousers and refused to go in.
Instinctively, he looked towards Margaret.
Perhaps hoping for her assistance.
But why should Margaret help with such a trivial matter? She wasn't a maid, nor was she Damon's lover. Previously, undressing had been out of curiosity and concern, but now she was indifferent, wanting only to be alone.
It wasn't for sleep. Any drowsiness had been dispelled by Winchester's antics.
