Sam, noticing his friend staring resolutely at his feet, started to chuckle. It grew from there, but it definitely started as a chuckle. "Welcome to mu humble home away from home," Sam said with a florid bow, knowing that he made quite a picture in his boots and spangled g-string.
Turning he back on his guest, he sauntered to the dressing table, pulling open a drawer and taking out a fifth of good old Kentucky bourbon and two rocks glasses, minus the rocks. "You want one?" he asked, glancing back over a shoulder playfully before he poured, gathering glasses and bottle and flopping down on the beat-up old futon after dumping a few articles of street-clothing onto the floor in a pile and nodding his head to the now free space in case Keiran was brave enough to sit.