"I think 'Open the fucking door' means 'Open Sesame'," Gwawr whispered in Yuri's ear. His back straightened, and he looked over his shoulder at her, unnerved when he found her face three inches from his own.
"Personal space," Yuri muttered, and grabbed the door handle.
They were met with the scent of soap, flowery and cheap. Gwawr was grinning with delight at this point as they walked in; "Oi, it's me," Yuri shouted. It wasn't long before they were not twelve feet away from Zach at the bucket.
It was Gwawr who spoke. "Zach! They have machines that wash, press, and dry for you, and you're still living in the stone age- and who is this?" Gwawr regarded Clare with unmasked surprise.
Yuri stood behind her, an expression of abject misery on his face, though arguably he was doing it for Zach's benefit.