From inside the fridge, Sebastian just smirked. He wasn't foreign to Santana's dry sense of humour, because it was just like his. It was why they got along as well as they did all these years. He gave his own ass a small pat for emphasis. "Open all hours, all access pass too," he offered before he grabbed the bottle of water and nudge the fridge door closed again with his hip. This guy was definitely brand new news. Sebastian would have remembered if Santana had brought this one home before. He twisted the bottle of water open, taking a sip as he sauntered back over to them and looked down at the guy with a smirk, holding his hand out to him. "Sebastian, but you can scream anything you like in the bedroom." He quirked an eyebrow in Santana's direction with an appreciative nod. The guy didn't seem to know whether to shake his hand or not, so Seb just gave a little wiggle of his fingers. "They're very experienced, I assure you." But he didn't push the handshake. He quickly drew in the guy's very noticeable tat along with the dog tags hanging around his neck. Fucking military. That would be a nice tasty morsel, to say the least... but why was he Santana's client? That did ring a few warning bells. He really wasn't a fan of baggage. That was more Blaine's forte, or even Germ's.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Hunter Clarington. If you ever feel the need for a bit of physical therapy that a blatant and well-honed lesbian can't offer, you know where to find me," he added with a wink and then went on his way back to his room. He wasn't done sleeping yet, but now he knew he was going to have even more pleasant dreams than what he managed earlier on, and there was no denying he was going to be interrogating Santana for more information - namely cock size - as soon as he had the opening.