Porthos was just twirling his cloak up and behind him to fasten it in place, and as soon as that was done, he opened the door without thinking. "Do you think we should tell..." Aramis about this place, he had been about to finish, because lying to his friend seemed several different shades of wrong, but an odd sensation came over him, his sword fell to the floor of what still looked like a room in this hotel, and his hat fell over his eyes. He pushed it back up with a frown, which only deepened at the sight of his hand.

His small, female hand.

He caught his breeches just in time, before they followed his scabbard to the floor, and whirled around. "D'Artagnan!" he roared, which, in his new voice, sounded a lot less like a roar than it normally would have.