Cray had grabbed his beer with a sincere "Thanks", opening it and taking a long, eager swig as he leaned back and considered their conversation. Hitting the poolside sounded like a good idea, it was a nice day out and nothing complimented a beer like a dip in the water.<br/><br/>"Pool sounds nice." He said to anyone listening. "I'm gonna see if I remembered my trunks." He took long gulps of the beer as he walked from the kitchen to grab his pack. He wasn't really invested in picking a specific room to sleep in just yet, just somewhere to change. All the rooms were see-through, so he went to the guest suite and hardly closed the door behind him. He took his pants off along with his briefs, before finally rummaging through his backpack to find his swim trunks (http://s5.thisnext.com/media/largest_dimension/951B4C54.jpg).<br/><br/>He changed casually, not in an immense hurry. He was whistling a base line from one of the songs he wrote absently, hardly even realizing he was doing it. He was a great whistler (likely better than his bass playing, according to fans of the band's break-up) and bobbed his head to the tune.  When he was changed, he kept his shirt on and walked barefoot out toward the pool.<br/><br/>It was only when he got outside that he'd realized he'd finished his beer.<br/><br/>"Uh oh." He said, shaking the empty beer. "We need an amber-transfusion, STAT!" He said mostly to himself but aloud.  He looked around to see if there was a cooler or mini bar at the pool or nearby.