Don't you iron your socks?
Characters: Chance and Reece Setting: The laundry room
They hadn't taken a whole lot of care in how they'd packed his clothes into the bag. "They" being the guards in this case. He couldn't really expect them to care about irregular fold lines and wrinkles in his slacks. For the millionth time, he desperately wished he could call his secretary, Barbara. She had memorized his exact laundry preferences and could forward his items to the proper cleaners.
Luckily, he'd spent enough time ironing his aunt's blouses as a child that he still knew how utilize an iron and the accompanying board. Chance laid the pants along the length of the board. He had managed to find a spray bottle among the items and had filled it up with water. Nothing was better for ironing than a proper mist setting. Nothing. With spray bottle and iron in hand, he went to work taming the wrinkles in his slacks.