The close bed is the obvious one for these sorts of things, its bedspread in disarray and unlaundered. The other one is almost pristine (as much as anything is in here).

He grins and pulls at her noncommittally, play more than desperation. Sweeney starts to yank off his jacket, only getting it halfway before he winces. He should have thought about it, he chides himself with a skyward roll of his eyes. Taking a moment, he slows to make a more calculated attempt.