This is not Karen's house. Karen doesn't have a house anymore, she lives at the inn, and one of the reasons for that is this precise sort of situation — Not the nearly-naked man, but the being snowed in. The nearly-naked man just makes it worse.
They can't keep everything they need for the inn at the inn, and she'd volunteered to go on a storehouse run. Now here she is, standing in the far doorway with a bundle of firewood in her arms from the stock thankfully still out back, staring at a winter Lothario in tighty whities as she debates whether she actually wants to start a fire and stay, or just risk the white out and try for the inn.
"No," she curtly replies. "There should be blankets in the hall closet. If you don't cover up in about ten seconds, I will knock you over the head with one of these pieces of firewood."
no subject
They can't keep everything they need for the inn at the inn, and she'd volunteered to go on a storehouse run. Now here she is, standing in the far doorway with a bundle of firewood in her arms from the stock thankfully still out back, staring at a winter Lothario in tighty whities as she debates whether she actually wants to start a fire and stay, or just risk the white out and try for the inn.
"No," she curtly replies. "There should be blankets in the hall closet. If you don't cover up in about ten seconds, I will knock you over the head with one of these pieces of firewood."