"Oh?" His eyelids drifted open, letting him look up at her. It hurt to look at her, fresh from the shower he'd wished he could share with her. But at least Pippa didn't want him to leave, not right now. That was something. He wasn't sure what, but something.

Still, it meant having to move. He didn't want to, but if he couldn't hold onto anything else, he'd hold onto manners. Pippa was his hostess; if she wanted him to go see something on Murano, he'd go. He wasn't actually broken, no matter how brittle he felt.

"I should get showered and dressed myself, then." Levering himself out of the armchair, Rory crossed the room to retrieve a change of clothes.