The man looked at Harolin.
Harolin looked at the man.
Ruaan sat on the bed between them holding his own shirt against his chest and very carefully not moving.
The new officer was built like someone who had been angry their entire life and decided to put it somewhere productive. He was tall. Wide. The kind of jaw that had never been soft. He had his clothes bundled under one arm and his bag in the other hand and he was standing in the middle of Harolin's room in nothing but tight boxers like this was a completely acceptable situation.
"Room 96," the man said. His voice was flat and deep and had zero apology in it. "My key number is 96. This room is 69." He held up the key. "I misread it since it was dark."
Ruaan looked at the key and looked at the door number he could see from the bed and looked back at the man.
That was genuinely possible.
