He ran the bath. He actually ran it — she lay on the bed and listened to a man she had been at war with since the previous July running a bath in the next room, and testing it with his hand, twice — and when she got in he sat on the floor with his back against the side of it and his sleeves rolled and did not look at her, which she understood, dimly, was a courtesy.
"Right," she said. "Ferris."