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Neal stepped into the main room, jacket slung over one shoulder, and asked, "Well?"
"Nice. Very suave."
Neal made a disgruntled face and stalked back into his loft-apartment-sized 'closet' to change. Again. Mozzie shook his head. If he knew what adjective Neal was hoping for, he'd have said it already. But no, Neal was being close-mouthed about whatever it was that had him changing clothes as often as a teenager on date night.
Mozzie speculatively eyed the corridor Neal had vanished down.