Stillsuits were a requirement in the desert, but they had never been anything like comfortable. As soon as he'd arrived home, he stripped down and showered. And ah, what a luxury to stand under a cascade of warmed water! Such a luxury, seemingly commonplace here, would have been outrageous on Arrakis. Would have been madness. But here, he tilted his face into the spray and shut his eyes and reveled quietly in the bliss of it.
The knock came shortly after he'd pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of comfortable pants. Rubbing his hair perfunctorily with his towel, he pulled the bathroom door open, tossed the towel over the towel rack, and headed for the door.
The Italian opera told him who to expect just as he slid the lock open. And there she was, hovering lightly at his threshold. "My favorite coat rack," he said with warmth that made the name something soft and perhaps even loving. He'd never revealed himself at the ball, and she'd not pressed again, but if she hadn't figured it out by now, then she wasn't the clever creature he thought her to be.
He pulled the door open wide and stepped aside, silently inviting.