Jane Actually

hairstylist asked if he meant “sort of a Hugh Grant look,” he had not contradicted her.
    He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. He was good looking enough, in an awkward, tall, slightly stoop shouldered sort of way. He had light blue eyes and dark brown hair with a square chin, all of which were good, but his thick eyebrows and thin frame detracted from his appearance. He did not have the impeccably crafted shy look of Hugh Grant, but more of a “where did I leave my car keys” quizzicality. Maybe dating Jane Austen’s avatar—or entertaining the thought of it—had been subtly encouraging him to adopt a more stylish persona.
    He now realized that he’d been staring in the mirror for quite some time and remembered that he did have an audience in the five men with whom he shared his room. He straightened and reached for his toothbrush and toothpaste, only remembering as he was bringing the brush to his mouth that he’d brushed his teeth before taking his shower.
    Suddenly the men in the room seemed very real to him. Previous to this he’d thought of the men as existing in some sort of void or dimension only tangentially congruent with his own reality, but now he thought of the men as all behind him, looking over his shoulder at his reflection in the mirror.
    He gave a quick involuntary shiver that was only witnessed by Albert. The other men were online and hanging out near Stephen’s terminal and two of the men weren’t even in the room, having remained behind in the main ballroom after the last presentation.
    Albert wondered at Stephen’s shiver and hoped his friend wasn’t getting a cold. He seemed fine, however, brushing his teeth very enthusiastically. The act made Albert reflect on all the little matters of personal hygiene he’d dispensed with and all those that he’d never had the need to experience, like the fascination with making one’s mouth a foamy cauldron with toothpaste, an experience Stephen enjoyed so much he’d brushed his teeth twice in the last half hour.
    As Albert watched, Stephen looked aside and then quickly rinsed his mouth, looking as if he’d heard a noise, and then Albert saw Stephen talking over his shoulder. Albert went back to the terminal and saw that one of his roommates—Mr Higgins—had addressed Stephen, advising him it was time they proceed to the ballroom.
    The men had returned to the room after the keynote and dinner to allow Stephen to change his shirt. One of his table companions had spilled coffee.
    BeauAbrams says:
    OK, I’m hurrying
    orribleiggins says:
    You look gorgeous, Stephen. I’m glad you’re representing us.
    AlanJTimison says:
    But if you don’t hurry up, you may not be able to claim a dance with Miss Henshaw
    BeauAbrams says:
    I’m sure she’ll save a dance for us
    But Stephen was ready to go. He put his conference badge around his neck and was about to disconnect the portable terminal from his laptop before he thought to make sure he left no one behind. He looked at the window representing the chat room and realized only three names were listed. He spoke aloud and watched his words appear online.
    BeauAbrams says:
    Wait a minute, we’ve only got three people connected
    orribleiggins says:
    Clarence and what’s his name stayed behind in the ballroom.
    BertieFromHants says:
    That would be Mr Chapman and Mr Perkins.
    Stephen felt stupid for not having done a head count when he got back to their hotel room, but he was hardly their nanny. If the men wanted to do other things, that was their business, but he still felt irked that the men hadn’t said anything.
    BertieFromHants says:
    They said they’d sent you a message.
    BeauAbrams says:
    OK, well they’re on their own. As for the rest of you, it’s time to go.
    He quickly unplugged the terminal from his computer, put the terminal in his inside front jacket pocket and inserted the earbud. He then took a quick glance around the room, turned off the light and opened the front door. He counted to ten to make sure everyone had exited and then closed the door behind him. He walked down the hallway a short distance and then removed the terminal from his pocket. It showed three connected users and thus assured he walked to the lifts.
    Where he found three women, two of whom were in Regency costume. He nodded to them politely and the younger of the costumed women replied with a curtsey. It was a gesture whose charm was wearing thin. Before he could press the call button, he heard a bing