He slipped out from under the covers and made a beeline for the bathroom.
On his way back to bed he noticed something seriously amiss in the living room. He saw a dark-haired woman sitting in one of the chairs, watching him in unconcealed interest. Denton couldn't tell if her presence or his own nakedness perturbed him more. Possibly the combination of the two. He retreated into the bedroom, and shook Bran by the shoulders. He got a sleepy grumble in response.
Denton shook him again. "Wake up. There's a strange woman in your living room."
Bran cracked his eyes open. "What does she look like?" he asked, in a voice thick with sleep, wariness, but not shock.
Denton thought back. "Attractive. Lots of dark hair. Not too young." From that brief look Denton guessed her age at late thirties, maybe well-preserved forties. "She's wearing a green dress."
Bran rubbed his eyes and groaned. "Oh, great." He rolled out of bed and threw on some clothes.
Denton followed suit. He half expected the woman to be gone, but when they got to the living room door, she still sat there, exactly as before.
"Where?" Bran asked.
"Right there, in the chair. Can't you see her?"
Bran let out a sigh. "Mother, you can stop it. He can see you. I told you he would."