Being kind has never been a problem for Rachel, it's what she does, sometimes even how she copes. Her hand goes to his shoulder, a brief, warm touch; it's not born of the sort of affection that implies a pass being made, no hey, we're alone in a hotel room, why don't we...? but of the easy esteem that rises in a person with a friend. It's fine, don't worry about it. Or worry about being Like This.

She watches the movement below, the breeze just catching the ends of her hair from time to time. "I wasn't sure about the whole idea of the nightclub being right here with the hotel," she admits, "but I think it works. Like... so many hotels are totally about isolating you. You get in and you go straight to your room, you're asked to keep quiet, to not turn up the TV they provide you to keep you occupied too loud. All the comforts you'd need and you don't have to step over the threshold if you don't want to. And you can still do that here; I noticed we couldn't hear the music and all until you opened the window. You could still sequester yourself. But you don't have to. You can open the window and know the party's there, or you can go down and join it. I don't know, it's nice."