Finnian was overwhelmed with confusion and panic as she leaped from the bed and away from him, leaving him on the bed completely naked. He sat up and made a half-assed attempt to cover himself, but found himself more preoccupied with other concerns: specifically, that he had no good, reasonable answer to her question.

He grabbed a pillow from her bed and placed it across her lap and rested his arms atop it. "I-I didn't let myself in, now that I think about it." Finnian was normally the type to face inexplicable events with a smile and shrug, but this was different. This was plain strange. "Ye can think of me what you want, but I never learned where you live, let alone where your bedroom is." He may be a flirt, but he was no predator. Surely she knew that!

He tried to search his mind for memories from last night. The last he remembered, he'd been returning home from work, far too tired to go out to the pub with his colleagues. He distinctly remembered turning down the glass of whiskey one of the other men offered to buy him if he came. There was no way he could've drunkenly stumbled into Mrs. Bones' bed—and a quick smell test proved it.

"Do you usually sleep in the nude? I don't," he questioned, his eyes moving from her sheet-clad body to the floor, where he was confused (and a tad concerned) to find that his clothes weren't there.

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