Glancing at his watch, he considered the hour, and his own time, carefully. It was certainly an unfavorable hour to be wandering around, even less so with rain pouring over the city in sheets. The temperature also was less than ideal - the early-winter chill having settled in uncharacteristically early. Turning the woman to the curb was beneath even him.
"Yes, well. I suppose I can’t expect you to get to mid-town for an actual hotel or cafe at this hour," he said absently, stepping aside and holding the door for the woman. He had never quite been able to get a bead on the Betazoid woman, Whether they were friendly or just congenially nihilistic toward one another he’d never been able to gather.
Stepping away from the door, he waved casually back at it as he moved toward the small kitchen. “Close it after you, and wait on the landing. I’ll get you a towel,” he said, moving to fetch the item from his stout hall closet. Tossing it to the woman once he’d re-entered the drawing room, he sighed. “Now, why come to me?”
The young Betazoid did as she told. It was almost odd to her. For so much time, she'd been the one watching him, speaking to him, holding all of his metaphorical cards high above his head, even without her own total will or wish, and now here she was – in his home, following his orders, seeking his help.
How... what was the Federation Standard word?
... Ironic.
Long, pale, shaking fingers caught the towel, a little too greedily, and she began drying herself off and wringing her hair away from the dryness and comfort of the sheet she'd been given.
“There w – where – ” Suppressing a groan, she passed the towel over her face and attempted to start again. "There were rumors that you were living here. When I decided that I needed... assistance... I thought it would be more logical to go to one I knew rather than to a stranger. It would be much easier for them to shut me away, and despite it n – not being... dangerously cold to most... I am not of this climate."
