Matheus peeked around the corner, scanning the empty hallway. He inched toward Bianca’s room, ignoring the voices travelling up the stairs. Whatever Faust wanted, Quin appeared not to be in the mood to accommodate him.
The door to Bianca’s room opened. Matheus plastered himself against the wall, because that always seemed to work in movies. Alistair looked at him, snorted, then vanished into the master bathroom. Matheus heard the water start a minute later. He tiptoed closer to Bianca’s door.
“So, not gay?”
Matheus yelped, and spun around.
“Where the hell did you come from?” he asked.
Milo pushed his glasses up with his pinkie finger. He’d taken off his jacket, but the scarf still hung looped around his neck.
“Third floor,” he said.
“There’s a third floor?”
“They have a pool table.”
“You like pool?”
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