As the demon looked into the steam-streaked mirror, he looked at himself, still damp from the shower. A flicker of movement from behind him somewhere caught his eye. Osreor's pulse quickened as he felt a half-second of alarm before recognizing Ben. The demon turned toward him, holding his towel strategically in front of himself to maybe obstruct some of himself from sight. He let out a puff of breath, feeling relieved that there was no real danger. He tilted his head and gave Ben an amused, questioning look.
Osreor pulled the towel over his lower half and wrapped it around him, securing it tight around his waist. Realizing his phone was with his bag on the bed, he walked into the room, where Ben was.