[ Oxford remains rather a steady pillar as Cambridge uses him as a handhold, though he keeps himself very much within the other man's personal space, hoping to make his desire for a more simple intimacy tonight clear enough without having to spell it out. He hasn't even any sexual motives, shockingly enough, he merely wants the company of another human being tonight and he would prefer for that human being to be Cambridge. Oxford shifts his position, sitting down and leaning to one side so that his hand is propping him up on one side of Cambridge's hip, settling himself a little more comfortably on the bed. ]

Aren't I just. [ The quirk of his little smile is audible in his voice. ] I just happened to be walking through reception when I overheard a waiter telling the concierge that he'd found a pair of shoes, can you believe it - an expensive pair, apparently, very stylish - and wondering what to do with them. Apparently, it's a shame to let such good shoes go to waste.

Now, you can imagine that this little story caught my attention, and I thought there might be a chance that these could be your shoes. I had my doubts, of course, since the waiter made out that they hadn't been ruined, and we all know how difficult it is for you to keep your shoes both on your feet and in tact. [ Oxford loves telling a story, his words languid and theatric. ] So I took a chance and asked about these shoes, described them to the concierge and waiter, and what do you know? Your shoes are quite safe and perfectly sound.