"I thought so." Lance's voice came drifting over the top of the stall, a little hard to hear over the sound of the water on tiles. That point became moot not long after, when he turned it off. "Can't exactly bring it in here with me, can I?"

He dried himself off, and when he emerged his hair was a still-damp mass of untidiness, even while he was running his hand through it (the other holding together the towel at his waist). He threw an automatic glance toward the door to the hall to make sure it was still closed and then reached for his own clothes, asking with a nod toward Sefton's outfit, "They fit okay, then?"