Alec groaned at Charlie's impression of a French maid but he played his part, too. Settling back onto the settee, he stretched out, pinning his arms behind his head as he kicked out his legs: the very picture of a gentleman in repose.
"Get me a cigar," he drawled, lazy and pompous, then he waved his hand dismissively. "Be quick about it."
He looked away as John sailed over to Henry and collapsed against the other man with the floppy grace of an enthusiastic puppy. Despite his discomfort, Alec loved his friends, even when they behaved like Greeks, so he kept his tongue and tried to ignore the confusing stir of jealousy and unease.