Suits, shoes, sweaters. [ They're muffling his voice. He's stepped inside and between then, feeling along the back wall in rapidly-dying hopes of some secret door. He steps out empty handed and resigns himself to setting aside a pair of shoes and a sweater. He'll find shirts and pants in his own dresser, he assumes, and change before they eat. ] Nothing interesting. Guessing by your expression it's not much better in the dresser? No...false bottoms, or anything?

[ He steps back to the closet, digging through pockets. It turns up nothing but change and a few cough drops. He moves on, carefully peeling the blankets off of the bed and shaking them out. Pillowcases follow. Nothing. ]