Preston, your stepfather from an old money household your mother married into, leans against the couch, facing the door, waiting for you.

You returned from sneaking out when he caught you. His long robe dangles from his shoulders, one hand in his pocket and another holding a glass.

"Do you have any idea how late it is? You know the gates close at eleven, but you're out there doing God knows what..." he chides, staring you up and down. "You know what? I'm not here to argue. Strip. Now."