"Ay, sir." Laertes bows, all deference--not even a hint of mockery or mirth. He settles their boots by the door and stows Sagramore's day pack (taking out the thermos first and placing it with the cups), then he puts their socks in the laundry hamper and immediately goes to draw a bath. There, he kneels by the tub and tests the water with his hands, seeking that perfect shade of warmth.