"Quentin," Jim echoes. The name rings a vague and distant bell, but he's gonna take a wild stab at it and: "Do what you want, as long as you don't leave me hanging with my bare ass out in your boyfriend's cabin."

He's honestly not that awkward about nakedness (though there's another reason he doesn't carefully pull the curtain all the way -- he's worried Miller's going to show up here, too). But it seems like it would be an awkward situation, in general.

And then he just has a minute to sit, with hot water -- not the warm gushy rotting salt water of the shock wave, not the perpetual storm, just real hot water.

He doesn't even scrub. He just closes his eyes and breathes.