The next morning dawned overcast and cool, with a hint of rain in the air. Sam went out for breakfast and then back to Some Guys to change into long pants and a sweater. He was still the only guest at the resort and found himself faced with nothing to do and no one to do it with. He tried to read, but quickly gave it up as a bad job and sought out Bob to ask him where the sun had gone.

"Oh, it'll be back," Bob said, looking at the sky. "It's supposed to get warmer by next week. I sure hope so. We've got a bunch of rooms filled and the guys won't be pleased if the weather's like this."

Back in his room Sam got to thinking. Bill had said the house was going to take eight months or a year to restore. He certainly didn't want to live at Some Guys for a year, no matter how much fun it was at times. He needed, he decided, a space he could call his own. He dug out the card that real-estate guy had given him at the mixer Monday evening and called.

William was free for the afternoon and asked Sam to drop by his office. When Sam got there, William smiled and said, "Ready to sell? The contractor scare you off?"

Sam gave him points for remembering their conversation. "No, actually he got me all fired up about restoring the place. Says it'll be a showplace."

William looked quizzical. "So why..."

"Well, see, that's the problem. We're going to restore the place and that's going to take maybe a year. I don't think I can live at Some Guys for that long, so I think I need to find myself a place of my own."

"We don't really do much with rentals, Sam, but maybe..."

"No, no. I don't think I want to be paying someone else's mortgage. No, I want to buy a place. I'm thinking maybe a condo. You know-couple of bedrooms, baths, nice grounds, maybe a view of some sort."

William turned to his computer and began typing, but before he hit the enter key he turned back to Sam. "You're staying over at Some Guys. You like it? I mean, the atmosphere."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, it's nice, the guys and all. But other than for a cup of coffee, I have to go out, and once in a while I'd like to do something for myself. I'm not very good in the kitchen, but I did learn to make scrambled eggs and toast. Why?"

William leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "I do have a place you might like. It's in a fairly new development that's all gay and, as far as I know, all guys. There are maybe sixty units altogether, and it's pretty rare to see one on the market. But I have to tell you, they're not cheap."

"So what are we talking about?"

"They're asking four-fifty for the one I have. We might get them down a little but I doubt we'd get to four and a quarter. It is furnished, though, which might be a plus."

Sam smiled. "When can I see it?"

William stood. "Right now, if you like. Come on, we'll take my car."

The development was called Desert Pride, and Sam liked it from the moment they drove through the gates.

The unit was two story and on the end of one of the buildings in the complex. It had a one-car garage on the first floor along with a combination living-dining room, a half bath, a very well-designed kitchen and a very large, walled patio with a spa. Sam looked at the spa surrounded by flowering shrubs and a potted palm tree and grinned. "Very nice. Bedrooms upstairs?"

The master bedroom, a suite really, was big and had a balcony overlooking the patio below. Its bath was good sized as well and had a shower that Sam figured was big enough for two-assuming the two were good friends. It had three shower nozzles, including one, a foot across, right in the middle of the ceiling. Sam pointed to it, and William said, "It's a rain nozzle. Supposed to make you feel like you're out in the jungle or a rain forest." Sam just nodded.

The second bedroom had been fitted out as an office, but it had a built-in wall bed. It, too, had a full bath and a small balcony.

Sam went back to the master bedroom and looked around. "What more could I want?"

William smiled. "Come on, I'll show you."

They went outside and walked through the gardens. "There's a pool over there," William said, pointing down the sidewalk. "But the main pool, the reason I thought this place might appeal to you, is over here." He turned down a path that was flanked by a flowering hedge.

At the end of the path was a gate, and beyond that was a good-sized, free-form pool which, William pointed out, was unusual in a condo complex. Rectangular was easier and cheaper to build, so that's what most builders did.

William used the condo door key to open the gate, and the first thing Sam noticed was a naked man on one of the lounge chairs. "This whole area is clothing-optional," William said as the man got to his feet. "I thought you might like that."

The man came up and called William by name. "You're the real-estate guy aren't you. This," he reached out and shook Sam's hand, "a hot prospect? I heard the old man was selling."

William laughed. "Word gets around fast, doesn't it, Martin? Sam Davis, Martin Shields. Martin owns the place next to the one you're considering."

"Nice to meet you, Martin. Isn't it a little cool out here? I mean..."

Martin smiled. "You mean to be dressed like this? Actually, I've been in the sauna in the health club there," he said, pointing to the glass doors at the back of the covered area, "and this is cool-down time." He scratched at his pubic hair, making his dick flop. "Besides, this place is used all year long. See those?" He pointed at several umbrella shaped, stainless-steel objects. "Those are heaters. They do a very good job of warming us during those long winter nights."

William turned to Sam. "See? I thought you'd like the place."

Sam was still looking at Martin. "Health club allows naked workouts?"

Martin scratched again and nodded. "Practically requires it. Really. I've never seen anyone dressed in there. Well, except for the guys playing handball. They all wear jocks with cups."

Sam grinned at William. "My kind of place, all right."

Back at the condo Sam looked at William and said, "Four-fifty, huh? What do you think they'll take?"

"Four-thirty, maybe. You want it?" Sam nodded. "Okay, you offer four-twenty. They come back with four-thirty. You take it. One thing though. I think the old boy wants a quick sale." He grinned. "Get the money before he dies so he can hold it over the family's head. You got a lender that can push it through pretty fast?"

Sam smiled. "How about today?"

"Oh man, you're on. Let's go back to the office."

In the office William called the owner and caught him just before dinner. When William made the offer, the owner didn't hesitate. He countered with four-thirty, and William told him it was a done deal. They agreed on a two-week closing.

Sam signed the papers as fast as they came out of William's computer, and an hour later William had a check for fifty thousand dollars. He said he'd arrange for a home inspection the next week but said he doubted there would be any problems. He also said he'd get Sam a copy of the CC&R's, the homeowner's rules, in a day or two.

They shook on it and went for a drink at the bar just up the street.

Sam was pretty much at loose ends for the next couple of days. He'd just bought a condo, but he couldn't even get into it until after the home inspection, and that wouldn't happen until the next Wednesday. He couldn't shop for anything because he didn't know what was there or what he'd want to replace.

There was no one around the resort, although Bob and Roger did expect a weekend crowd starting Friday evening.

Nothing was happening on the house front, either. Bill didn't think he'd be able to start much before the twenty-first, which was two and a half weeks away. Oh, what the hell, he thought to himself, get yourself out there and find something to do.

What he did was to go out and find the AIDS help organization, which turned out to be called Desert AIDS Help. While he was at the front desk inquiring about volunteer opportunities a good-looking man a few years younger than Sam stopped and introduced himself. He said he was Jeremy Scott and was the director of the DAH, as he called it.

"You're just the man I want to see," Sam said, shaking his hand. "You got a few minutes?"

Jeremy looked at his watch and nodded. "I have someone in my office right now, but I'll be through in ten or fifteen minutes."

Sam looked at his watch. "Tell you what. It's almost noon, so when you're finished let me take you to lunch. Okay? While you're finishing, I'll just read some of the literature here."

"Hey, that's fine with me. See you in a few minutes."

Turning to the receptionist, Sam asked, "Is there someplace special he likes for lunch?"

The young man nodded. "Yeah. Hamburger Mary's over on Palm Canyon. Want me to make you a reservation?"

"That would be very good of you. Please."

While the young man telephoned, Sam looked through the literature on the counter, including the annual report of the organization. Sam took the report over to a couch and began to read. By the time Jeremy reappeared, Sam had been through most of the financial data in the report.

At the restaurant, Jeremy declined the offer of a beer and ordered iced tea. Sam had a draft. "So, Sam," Jeremy said when the drinks had been served, "what's your interest in the organization?"

"Well, I was looking for something to do for a little while, but I think I came up with a better idea."

Jeremy smiled. "We have lots of things you could do, Sam. We always need volunteers, and they're always busy."

"That's what I was thinking about, but I think there's something I'm perhaps better suited to." Jeremy raised one eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"Tell me something about what you people do and how you do it."

Jeremy became very enthusiastic about the organization and what it did to help victims of AIDS. He hardly ate much of his lunch because he was so involved with painting a picture of the work they did.

Sam listened very carefully before he stopped Jeremy. "Look, guy, you've hardly touched your lunch..."

"Well, you wanted to know. You asked the question. I like to talk about what we do."

"I also invited you to lunch, which means you should get something to eat."

Jeremy pushed back his plate. "I'll take it back with me. It'll make a nice dinner."

"It won't make a nice dinner because you're going to have dinner with me. You like Mexican food?"

Jeremy nodded, wondering if Sam was hitting on him.

"Good. I know a place. Oh, and Jeremy? This is not a come-on. It's business."

Sam spent the next four hours in the library, the Chamber of Commerce and City Hall. By the time he'd finished his research he knew exactly what he was going to do.

They went to El Mirasol, and this time Jeremy ordered a drink, a double margarita. "It was a tough afternoon," he said after he sampled his drink. "A small glitch on the fundraising front. I spent most of the afternoon with a couple of members of the board." He took a large sip of his margarita. "Those guys are tough SOBs."

After they ordered-tacos for Sam, enchiladas for Jeremy and chili rellenos for both-Sam pulled out the DAH annual report. "According to this," he said, putting the report in the table, "you, as the head guy, are paid twenty-nine thousand dollars a year. Is that before or after bonuses and incentives."

Jeremy nearly choked on his margarita. "I can see you're not from the world of charitable organizations, Sam." He grinned. "In the charity business you have to be the head of a national agency like the Red Cross to even think of a bonus or anything like that. No, they pay me twenty-nine thousand, and, frankly, I'm lucky to get that."

Their food was served, and they spent a while savoring it. It was very good.

When they had finished, they went to the bar and ordered another margarita.

"Back to your salary for a moment. I've done some checking and talking to people, and the consensus is that you're worth more than that."

"I am," Jeremy said with a grin. "Even the board thinks so. But Sam, there's only so much money..." He paused for a moment, thinking. "And I'm really not looking for another job if that's what this is about."

"It isn't. It's about this: you tell your board to take your twenty-nine thousand and apply it to some other need. I, then, will guarantee you thirty-nine thousand for each of the next five years, assuming you stay with the place that long. The board continues to pay your benefits."

Jeremy's mouth fell open. When he closed it, he sat for a long time, looking off at something Sam couldn't see. "How about this?" Jeremy asked when he'd refocused on Sam. "You guarantee me thirty-four thousand and the organization itself gets the other five."

Sam was impressed. "You'd do that?"

Jeremy laughed. "Look Sam, it's not every day you get offered a five thousand dollar raise. And DAH could really use the other five thousand."

Sam sat back and wondered at the dedication of this man. "No deal. But how's this for a compromise: I'll guarantee you forty and another ten to the agency. Okay?"

Jeremy got up, walked around the table and kissed Sam. When they broke, Sam handed Jeremy his card with Alistair's name and number written on the back of it. "You should hear from him," he said, tapping Alistair's name," in a couple of days. If you don't, call me. Don't say anything to your board until you've talked to Alistair."

The next day was Friday and, after a long phone conversation with Alistair, he spent the rest of the morning in the exercise room. Things did pick up late Friday afternoon when a few guys began to check in to the resort, and by ten o'clock Friday night he and four other guys were making each other happy in the Jacuzzi.

Bill stopped by the resort Saturday morning and told him that something was finally going to start at the house: he'd hired some laborers to begin cutting and hauling some of the brush that was choking the garden. He figured they'd get much of it done that day and Sunday.

Sam asked why they were working on the weekend and was told they were moonlighting. They worked for a landscape company during the week. Sam told him to be sure to give the men a bonus. "No one likes to work on weekends," he said, "at least no one I ever knew."

Sunday dawned clear and warm so Sam spent the morning around the pool admiring the new guys, but by noon he'd grown restless. He dressed, had a sandwich and went out to the house to see what was happening.

There was plenty happening. A big truck parked in the driveway was piled high with dead brush. In the yard four men were cutting brush and digging in the dirt. One came over to Sam and asked if he could help him. Sam told the man no, he was just the homeowner. The man yelled something in Spanish, and the other three turned and tipped their hats to Sam. Two of them, who couldn't have been as old as eighteen, were in jeans that sagged so far he wondered how they could possibly keep them on. Both wore colored underwear, one dark green and the other medium blue. Sam smiled and gave them a mock salute.

After hanging around watching the men work for a while, Sam went next door to say hello to Tom and Dan. They were happy to see him and wondered what was going on. "We went over and tried to talk to the men, but our Spanish is so bad we never did find out anything."

Dan looked up and said, "Except that they're clearing out the garden. You can see that."

"Well, and then what? Sam?"

Sam had to laugh. "To tell the truth I haven't a clue, Tom. Bill-Bill Flint, my contractor-is taking care of it. I suppose they'll put in a garden, or someone will. But probably later, after the exterior work is done. Now I think they're just clearing it out so Bill's workmen can find the outside walls."

"You like a bloody Mary?" Tom asked. "It's what we're drinking. Too early for gin."

Sam accepted, and they went out to the patio and sat in the shade. Sam told them that he'd decided to restore the place next door rather than just fix it up. He told them what Bill had said about it once being a showplace and that he was determined to bring it back to its former glory.

"It was a showplace," Tom said. "I remember when it was built, long before we moved here. It was in the Chicago papers. That's where we saw it. 'Course we were still in college then, never dreaming we'd be living next door to it someday."

They went on talking through the afternoon, regaling each other with stories of the past. Towards sundown they switched to martinis, and Sam stayed for grilled steak and salad. Over dinner Sam told them he had bought a condo in Desert Pride.

Tom laughed. "Isn't that the place where they have orgies around the pool every night?"

Sam shook his head. "I doubt they have orgies, but one of the pools is clothing-optional. I guess the health club is, too."

"Ah, I've heard tales about cocktail parties around that pool. Pretty wild if you ask me."

Sam secretly hoped Tom was right, but he wasn't going to say it. "Cocktails, probably, but orgies? I doubt it."

"Oh, I don't know," Dan said. "This is Palm Springs."

Sam took his leave after dinner and went back to Some Guys where he spent a couple of hours with the new guests in the Jacuzzi and then went to bed. Alone.

Monday was very laid back and lazy. Sam did go out to the house in the early afternoon and found the place nearly bare of any vegetation except for the palms and the ficus in the back. The guys had done a fast, and, as far as Sam could see, a fine job.

Later that afternoon, he went to a Prime Timers mixer at the Rainbow, the place where he and Bill had first had lunch. Even though it was only his second time with the group, he found them very friendly and was beginning to feel quite comfortable with them,

He was leaning against the bar when he spotted the stubbled young man he had noticed the week before. Well, he thought with a mental shrug, the worst he can do is tell me to get lost. He pushed his way through the crowd and caught up with him in front of the piano.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Sam and I'm pretty new to the club. Like maybe a week."

"Toby," the young man said, extending his hand. "Yeah, I don't think I've seen you around before. New to Palm Springs or just Prime Timers?"

Sam found Toby very personable and easy to talk to. He'd lived in L.A. when he was in high school and college; his job had brought him to the desert. He was twenty-six. He didn't seem to flinch particularly when Sam mentioned that he was forty-five, which Sam found encouraging.

Sam bought a round of drinks and met several of Toby's friends who stopped to say hello. None of them seemed to look askance at Sam which gave him further encouragement.

When he got around to asking Toby to dinner though, he struck out. Toby said he had something to do-he didn't say what-and turned the invitation down. Then he said he had to go and gave Sam his card, which Sam couldn't match, not having had any printed yet. He pocketed the card but as soon as Toby was out the door he pulled it out and looked at it. He breathed a sigh of relief when he noted that there was a phone number on it.

As he was studying the card a good looking older man came up and introduced himself. "I'm Jay, uh," he looked at Sam's name tag, "Sam. May I buy you a drink?"

Sam looked the man over. He was gray haired, trim and obviously male. Sam nodded. They chatted over their drinks, giving each other the short versions of their past lives. When it came time for another round Sam shook his head.

"Well, then," Jay said with a twinkle in his eye, "may I buy you dinner? I hate to eat alone, and it's getting to be that time."

Sam found himself flattered by the invitation and accepted. They went to Spencer's, an upscale and beautiful restaurant nestled at the base of the mountains, where Sam gave up his car to a valet. Jay seemed to be well known there, and they were immediately shown to a table on the patio. Jay asked if he might order for Sam.

"Of course," Sam replied, feeling a little bit like he had so many times when he was out with Harry. He wasn't sure how he felt about that now. Harry was in the past, finished and gone, and Sam was beginning to like the feeling of being the man in charge. On the other hand it was nice being taken care of.

Dinner was wonderful, and everything Jay ordered was exactly right. They finished with coffee and brandy. When they had had enough, Jay took Sam's arm and led him to the parking lot. No bill had been presented.

"Will you come to my place?" Jay asked, opening the car door for Sam. "The valet will take care of your car."

Before he could think, Sam was sinking into the pale gray leather of Jay's Bentley, and he thought, oh, what the hell. Jay was quite attractive.

Jay was also quite accomplished in bed and wanted nothing more than to bring Sam to orgasm as often as possible with his mouth. Sam managed three. Jay was a happy man.

The next morning, after a breakfast which Jay cooked, Sam found his car parked in Jay's driveway. Jay merely shrugged and said, "The restaurant is fond of my patronage." He kissed Sam and sent him on his way.

William called the next day and asked Sam if he could come to the condo for the home inspection that afternoon. Sam, of course, said yes. Then he went out to Desert Aids Help.

When he identified himself to the receptionist he was immediately shown into Jeremy's office. Jeremy came out from behind the desk and gave Sam a hug.

"You're actually for real, aren't you?"

Sam grinned. "You doubted it?"

Jeremy colored just slightly. "A little. Guys don't come around every day with offers like that." He hugged Sam again.

"You've talked with Alistair?"

He had. Several times. And he'd talked with several of the board members who then had also talked to Alistair. "It's done," he said, slightly awed. "Your man Alistair is the most decisive man I've ever dealt with."

Sam looked at his watch. "Lunch?"

Jeremy shook his head. "Can't. We're having an emergency board meeting," he glanced at the clock on his desk, "in about three minutes. Want to come?"

"Not on your life. I hate things like that."

"But we're probably going to talk about you, Sam. In fact, I'm sure of it."

"All the more reason not to go. Look, I'll see you again in a few days. I'll call first and find a day when we can go to lunch."

Jeremy hugged him again and said, "Thank you, Sam." Then he kissed him. "Next week? Please?"

Sam nodded and went to lunch, alone, but a happy man. He knew he'd done something good.

The home inspection went well. The inspector, an overweight man of about fifty, was very thorough and spent more than two hours turning on faucets, checking outlets, running the air conditioning and heat. When he was through, he said he'd found nothing that shouldn't be and everything that should. He said he would issue a complete written report in a couple of days. Then he spent another hour and a half walking Sam through the place, showing him how everything worked and how to operate it. Sam was impressed with the guy and told William so.

"That's why we always get him to inspect our sales," William said. "You pay for a good job, and you get a good job."

The next afternoon Sam found Bob, one of the owners of Some Guys, sitting by the pool. "This is one, mind you, only one of the joys of being a naked innkeeper," Bob said with a grin. "Whenever I have a little free time, I can come out here and watch the naked men around my pool. And sometimes I even get lucky."

Sam laughed. "I'll bet it's more than just sometimes. I'll bet it's more like whenever you want to get lucky."

"I suppose so. But you know what?" He put his hand on Sam's thigh. "I've got Roger, so I don't much need to get lucky." He grinned again. "How about you? You doing okay?"

Sam nodded, thinking of Jay. "Yeah, I'm doing as well as can be expected." He had a sudden thought and added, "Mostly."

Bob sat up. "Don't tell me someone turned you down! Who would do that?"

"Sweet little guy at Rainbow the other night. I asked him to dinner and he had 'other things' to do. Gave me his card though, so I guess it wasn't a total rejection."

"Have you called him? Asked him out another night?"

Sam blushed a little. "No."

"Well you have to do that." Bob reached out and batted Sam's dick. "No wonder that thing isn't getting its fair share, big and pretty as it is."

"Careful," said Sam. "You'll make it all hard and embarrass me."

Bob merely laughed.

Sam laughed too but he didn't mean it. There was something about that kid that had gotten to him. He went back to his room, found the card and dialed.

When he finally got Toby on the phone, he asked if he could take him to dinner Friday but was disappointed again. Toby said he had something on the calendar for that night. Sam's spirits picked up though when Toby asked if perhaps they could do it on Saturday instead. They agreed to meet at The Uptown Grill. Sam was unaccountably excited by the prospect.

The next afternoon Sam was lying in the sun when Bill Flint put his hand on his shoulder. "Hi, Sam. I was wondering if you could come over to the house on Sunday and look at a couple of things. I've got some ideas I need to bounce off you."

"Sure," Sam said. "Around two?" He was hoping to be busy Sunday morning.

They settled on the time, and it was only after Bill left that Sam realized he was naked and Bill had been fully clothed. The idea of that caused Sam to chuckle, but it was also vaguely erotic, and his dick began to fill out.

Down boy, he thought. I'm saving you for later.

It seemed a long time, but later did finally arrive.

It was a cool evening, and Sam dressed in heavy twill pants and a pullover sweater. When he got to the restaurant, he was surprised to find that they had valet parking and happily left his car to the middle-aged lady attendant. While waiting in the foyer, he idly thought about the parking attendant; in Los Angeles parking attendants were always handsome, gung-ho young men. He'd never seen a woman attendant before, much less a middle-aged one.

His thoughts were interrupted by Toby's arrival. While Toby was making his way through the crowd in the foyer, Sam looked him over closely and decided that he was indeed something special. The trouble was, Sam thought, he was also a kid: a handsome one, especially with that stubble, but a kid nonetheless.

The restaurant was crowded, so they waited for their table in the bar. Toby ordered a martini, up.

"I think I'll have one of those, too," Sam said to the barman. "It's been a while and I think maybe I've missed them." He turned to Toby. "Martini your usual drink?"

Toby shook his head and laughed. "Only sometimes. Before dinner, on a special occasion...then I'm very fond of them."

Over dinner Sam found out that Toby worked at the Hyatt as an accountant. He'd put himself through Cal State University at Los Angeles and had immediately gone to work in the accounting department at the Park Hyatt. After a year they had asked him if he'd consider a move to the hotel in Palm Springs, which was having reorganization problems.

"So I said, 'Sure, I'll go. For the right salary.'" He laughed. "And they said okay. Just like that. A big raise, moving expenses paid, a free room in the hotel while I looked for a place. Hard to turn down."

Sam nodded. "Obviously impossible to turn down, seeing as how you're here. You glad you did it?"

Toby smiled, and Sam thought again what an engaging smile it was. "Yeah, I am. The first year was fairly horrendous, but we got through it, and I really like my job. It's more than that, though. People here are friendly. No attitude like you see in Los Angeles and West Hollywood."

"You can say that again. You like Prime Timers?"

"Uh-huh. All the guys are friendly, and it's nice to be in a gay group, especially one that's not so frantic, one that's more mature."

Sam laughed. "That's the word, all right. Mature." He took a sip of wine, trying to cover a nervousness he hadn't realized he had. "You like mature men?"

An impishness flashed into Toby's eyes. "Well, as long as they can fog a mirror. Can you do that, Sam? Fog a mirror?"

"Usually. It's the first thing I check in the morning when I hobble into the bathroom."

Toby laughed. "I can just see you hobbling." His eyes seemed to change to a darker blue. "Besides, you aren't all that mature anyway. How old did you say you were?"

"A hundred and three. Well-preserved, don't you think?"

Toby nodded. "You're even well-preserved for forty-five." Toby pushed himself away from the table. "The food's good here, but they give you too much."

"Yeah, and dessert is yet to come. A growing boy needs his dessert, don't you think?"

"One who's growing around the middle, I suppose. God, I already need an extra hour in the gym. What'll I need if we have dessert?"

They compromised on a single order of crème brûlée, which they shared.

Over dessert Toby asked Sam, "What are you anyway, a spy? A CIA operative?"

"I don't think either of those occupations would suit me very well. As a gay man. What brought that up?"

"Well, we've talked all the way through dinner, and I still don't know anything about you. You let me babble on, but you never told me anything about yourself. Ergo, you must be a spy."

Sam laughed. "Hardly, my boy, hardly. I'm just interested in you. But I tell you what: have dinner with me again and I'll tell you my whole life story, more than you ever wanted to know."

"Promise?"

Sam put his hand over his heart. "Hope to die."

"Deal. You'll have to call me later though because I don't have my calendar with me."

Sam extended his hand. "Deal."

They left the restaurant in separate cars bound for separate destinations. Sam was disappointed but consoled himself with thoughts of another night-well, another dinner-in the offing.

Back at Some Guys, Sam considered hitting the Jacuzzi but decided on bed-alone-instead. He slept well.