"Perfect gentleman? Don't strain something." Even in another room, little fluttery, flickery thoughts drift from his mind: he thinks about having a shower tomorrow, about Bond sleeping on the sofa, or in his bed, about the coffee he'll have tomorrow. Sudden flickers of anger and terror as he remembers the fight.

Shortly after he comes out of the bathroom, he looks towards the sofa and then rummages in a closet until he can find and throw the dreaded sweatpants. Tough. You can't sleep in your suit, Bond.