Pree had noticed people moving so slowly lately. Maybe it was being in a new city, or some consequence of the hotel's grip on them all. For the most part, he didn't think much about it. His conscious thoughts often floated on a surface of heightened emotion, sharpened senses, and hazy memories.
But he did appreciate Conrad's thoughtfulness in closing the curtains. "Thank you, darling. The sun's still bothering me two days into this..." Could they still call it a hangover? It didn't seem right. But neither did he feel comfortable referring to it as a bout of illness when he felt better than he had in decades.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, looking around the room once he had stepped over the threshold. (It didn't occur to him that the invitation mattered; so far, no one had told him no.) "No roommate around?"