[ Ray, does this look like a man who is unhinged by his own sexual tension? Or even knows what sexual tension is?

Curtains drawn and checked for gaps--Fraser doesn't really want any of this getting back to Thatcher in a million years: for one thing, this is an Embassy. He could only imagine the furor if someone were to snap a photograph of the two of them...practicing.

Assuming they ever got that far. Ray looked like he was about to bolt.

Might as well get right on with it, then. ]

For this to work, both of us have to be in the same place. It isn't the kind of thing I can practice alone.

[ Another careful step. Fraser didn't particularly want to have to chase Ray down the stairs in half his uniform. It wasn't going to look good when they woke up Turnbull where he was asleep under the stairs, and it wouldn't be any good for either of them to be interrupted by him either. ]

Lock the door, Ray. If you would.

[ And this was really the biggest problem with Fraser giving orders. Not Ray's possible disobedience, but the fact that he couldn't give any order that wasn't at once glaringly polite. They were doomed. ]