He looked around the room. There wasn’t any privacy to be had—no curtained alcove, no convenient closet or telephone booth in which to perform a quick change. He could take the clothes and walk down to the bathroom, but they’d probably just follow him in. He didn’t want to insult them, either . . . if he walked down the hall with the pile of clothes, the white unicorn might think he didn’t like them. I can just get dressed under my sheet, he decided.