After all, he thought, here I have to get my own breakfast. She's probably tired out, but that's the reward of moonlighting. It's her planet, not mine.
Winstead tiptoed to the kitchen door, slipped furtively through, and closed the door as quietly as possible behind him.
Two men eating breakfast at a small table looked up at him amiably.
"Gaagh!" said Winstead.
"Good morning," replied one man, who wore a rather feminine dressing gown.
The other, a ruddy, farmerish individual, grunted past a mouthful of toast.
"I beg your pardon," Winstead said.
"You must be another star traveler," said the gentleman in the dressing gown. "We knew there must be one when we saw Carole on the couch. I hope she gets you out of here quicker than she's finding a ship for me."
"You have been waiting for a spaceship?" Winstead asked.