"Sorry," she said, not moving to fix them. "Should I...?"
"No." The word came out slightly strangled. "It's. Fine."
It was very clearly not fine. He put down her belongings, and picked up her boots. He opened a concealed closet door and placed them neatly in a rubber tray, heels aligned. He shut the door with an audible sigh of relief, then picked up her bags again and gestured towards the hallway. "Guest room is this way. I'll show you."
She padded after him in her wet socks, leaving damp footprints on his perfect floor, and tried not to feel like she was desecrating a temple. The hallway continued the theme of aggressive organization—frames hung at exactly the same height, evenly spaced, each containing what looked like team photos or scenic landscapes. No dust. No scuffs on the baseboards. The whole place smelled faintly of cedar and something clean, like high-end laundry detergent.
"Here."
He pushed open a door to reveal a guest room that looked like it had never been used by an actual guest. The bed was made with crisp hospital corners, the white duvet so smooth it could have been ironed. Matching nightstands flanked the headboard, each holding an identical lamp positioned at an identical angle. A small desk sat against one wall, empty except for a notepad and a single pen placed precisely parallel to the notepad's edge.
"The bathroom is through there." He nodded towards a door on the left. "Clean towels are in the cabinet. You can adjust the water temperature with the digital panel—the presets are labeled."
Of course they were.
"There are some rules," he continued, and she had to suppress a snort.Of coursethere were rules. "The kitchen is open, but please put things back where you found them. The thermostat is programmed to a specific schedule, so don't adjust it. The?—"
"Wait, wait." She held up a hand. "You have a thermostat schedule?"
"Optimal energy efficiency requires?—"
"What temperature is it set to right now?"
"Sixty-eight."
"And at night?"
"Sixty-four."
"And you think I'm going to survive sixty-four degree overnight temperatures when I almost froze to death an hour ago?"
His expression flickered with something that might have been consternation—it was hard to tell with him. "The extra blankets are in the hall closet."
"How many extra blankets?"
"Three."
"Labeled?"
He didn't answer, which meant yes, they were absolutely labeled.
She pressed her lips together and nodded slowly, doing her best impression of someone who was going to follow rules and not immediately cause chaos. "Okay. What else?"
"The laundry room is behind the kitchen. There's a hamper system?—"
"Of course there is."
"—whites, darks, and delicates. The containers are clearly marked."
"Naturally."
"And please don't leave dishes in the sink. The dishwasher is?—"
"Let me guess. Pre-sorted by size and shape?"
A pause. "There's a diagram on the inside of the door."
She stared at him. He stared back, completely unapologetic.
