Illya stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Despite the water dripping from his body, he padded through to the living room and set a jazz record away on the turntable. Returning to the bedroom he dressed, in sweatpants and t-shirt, to the sounds of Ornette Coleman.
He then went to the kitchen and prepared a glass of tea. Usually, Illya made do with the kettle but, as he was going to relax properly, he used his samovar.
With glass in hand, he sank onto the sofa.
Beep beep, beep beep, beep beep.
Duty called.