The only reason Rokuro didn't bring his tablet is because he intended to spend most of his day poolside, learned from the last mission that electronics and water don't mix.
"Repurpose them into what?" Still curious, in spite of the emotion and intoxication. A lifetime of reading and recording secrets has a way of making someone nosy. "Perhaps you can regale me when I return."
They both know how much Tech likes to talk about his Stuff, and all the Stuff he intends to do with said Stuff. Rokuro leaves Tech's well-organized junkyard for the bathroom. He isn't so far past his superstitions that he's comfortable freshening up without hanging a towel over the mirror, but he no longer startles when presented with a near-perfect reflection.
Rokuro starts washing his face and hands in the sink, and upon realizing the rest of him is more dirty than clean, takes a shower instead. Water will always have a soothing quality to him, and the warmth of the spray feels like it's washing every ugly, messy, and imperfect down the drain. There are few things more satisfying than a hot shower after a long night, and maybe he loses track of time for a little while.
Eventually, Rokuro emerges clean, slightly pink, and wrapped in a thick terrycloth robe, looking far more relaxed than he entered. To the point he has yet to rewrap the bandages over his right eye. When he looks at Tech, his gaze is half-crimson half-chalcedony stone.
"I hope you do not mind-- I saw you had to yet to use the dressing robe, and my own clothing was in a state. I will launder it with the rest of your linens in the morning."
no subject
"Repurpose them into what?" Still curious, in spite of the emotion and intoxication. A lifetime of reading and recording secrets has a way of making someone nosy. "Perhaps you can regale me when I return."
They both know how much Tech likes to talk about his Stuff, and all the Stuff he intends to do with said Stuff. Rokuro leaves Tech's well-organized junkyard for the bathroom. He isn't so far past his superstitions that he's comfortable freshening up without hanging a towel over the mirror, but he no longer startles when presented with a near-perfect reflection.
Rokuro starts washing his face and hands in the sink, and upon realizing the rest of him is more dirty than clean, takes a shower instead. Water will always have a soothing quality to him, and the warmth of the spray feels like it's washing every ugly, messy, and imperfect down the drain. There are few things more satisfying than a hot shower after a long night, and maybe he loses track of time for a little while.
Eventually, Rokuro emerges clean, slightly pink, and wrapped in a thick terrycloth robe, looking far more relaxed than he entered. To the point he has yet to rewrap the bandages over his right eye. When he looks at Tech, his gaze is half-crimson half-chalcedony stone.
"I hope you do not mind-- I saw you had to yet to use the dressing robe, and my own clothing was in a state. I will launder it with the rest of your linens in the morning."