Completed Bedside Manner (Matthew)

[Edreina]

38th Day of Summer, 513 AV 14th Bell Getting comfortable when you usually sleep on the arm that is currently screaming at you with pain is no easy task. Edreina had attempted lying on her back, her other side, and even her stomach. Nothing seemed to be as comfortable as the coveted right-side-curl-up position. Finally, she had discovered that if she lay upon her stomach, left arm curled to form a pillow and right arm dangling so that her knuckles brushed the stone floor below her cot, could be very comfortable. As long as she didn't think about how much she would rather be laying on her side. She felt filthy, grimy, as if simply laying around had caused her to accumulate a layer of dust. Her hair, normally so luminous and full of life, hung lank and disinterested. The lack of sunlight and salt water had given it a depressed look. But the most drastic change of all was the haze that had come into Edreina's usually vivacious cerulean eyes. A mixture of pain killing herbal remedies and the sinking feeling in her chest as it seemed that, with each passing day, she grew no closer to being able to leave her care-takers, had taken its toll on the redhead. Overall, it was as if she had retreated deep within herself, seeking the sea that lay within her own mind, attempting to escape the gloom of her surroundings. Every once in awhile, the squire Erik would come by just to make sure that she was still there, still breathing. He seemed to be intent upon finding out what really happened on the ship days ago, but each time Edreina repeated the lie, it became a bit easier. Eventually he stopped talking to her, becoming a ghost that drifted into and out of her room, sometimes replacing the oil that fed the only lantern lighting her room. As she lay, chasing sleep, the index finger of her left hand began to trace shapes into the grime that darkened the fortress floor. After a few miserable bells, she had a decent likeness of a horizon, interrupted by a shoreline and a fortress city that lay beyond. Sometimes, while she was laying there alone, she wished that she would have turned at that moment and returned to the Anchorage she now missed so dearly.

[Matthew]

A few soft words were traded outside of her room, and after a few chimes pause, the door cracked open and a familiar figure stepped into the gloom. Matthew paused in the doorway, blue eyes studying her, the light of the lantern dancing in little sparks off of their clear surface. In contrast to her rather poor appearance, he was as she would know him, sharply dressed and perfectly groomed. His hair was obviously cut and styled as much as possible, with his handsome features clean-shaven and clear of any blemishes. The short-sleeved black shirt he wore hugged him nicely, fitting to him like a glove on a hand, while belted trousers perched perfectly on his hips. His boots were clean, as if he had washed them and then carefully woven through a maze of the dirty Syliras streets in order to find the few clean patches there were. All in all, he looked like he always did at the Herald, while she looked like a miserable mess. Not sensitive enough to notice, Matthew apathetically scanned her figure, face completely straight as he examined her current state. "You look pretty dirty. Have you bathed?" His voice was calm and to the point, not at all meaning to offend, just stating the obvious as if attempting a start to sad small talk. Closing the door behind him, he brought his hands out from behind his back, producing a small bag that was dropped on the floor and a handful of daisies picked from outside of the Syliras walls. While one could definitely think he was sweet for the gesture, he handed them over with a level of professionalism that practically nulled any sweetness from the gesture. Kind, sure. But kind in the way that he was doing it because it was the standard kind thing to do. He did often see people bring other sick people flowers, so here he was with flowers. It was the socially acceptable thing to do. "The Herald is aware that you are hurt, which made me aware. So I brought you flowers. Here." He held them out for a moment, blue eyes still studying her. He lingered that way for just a bit longer, then realized that she was probably in no condition to actually grab them. Glancing around, he retrieved a dirty jar from the corner, and quickly blew off most of the lingering dust. Plopping the yellow and white daisies down into the makeshift vase, he then set it next to her drawing, noting the dulled look to her eyes. Wondering if she was even of this word, he quietly folded his legs and sat on the floor above her drawing, studying both it and her in flicking glances back and forth. Tilting his head to the side, he opened his mouth and then closed it, suddenly realizing he was at a loss at how to proceed. Because of how the girl had treated him, like it or not, both her and Razkar had been put into a specific category in his head. It was a category he wasn't very used to having to deal with. "I could service you. For a large discount." He wiggled uncomfortably, face a deadpan, his concern well-hidden in his suggestive offer. It was his expression of his own unique brand of concern. Part of him wished Razkar was here. The intimidation that came along with the Myrian would be something that felt natural. "Would that make you feel better?" She was highly drugged from the glaze of her eyes, so he doubted it. But still. Blue eyes shimmered, the concern a bit more obvious. "Did your wound require bandaging? If so, where? Show me." His last statement was firm, like a father speaking to a young child.

[Edreina]

It was not Erik who entered, for the newcomer did not clank. It took a tick too long for her eyes to focus and identify the figure as Matthew, the energetic Harlot who worked with her at the Herald's Arms. He looked as neat as ever, if a little uncomfortable in such a lackluster environment. It wasn't that her room was squalor, just that there was only so much cleaning one could do when there was no drain or other orifice to remove mop-water. To the usually quite neat Svefra, however, it was as if she were up to her neck in dirt. Dry, crumbling, inanimate dirt. "You look pretty dirty. Have you bathed?" Edreina frowned, and then looked up, trying not to get annoyed with his perfectly manicured appearance. "The only thing they allow me to keep clean is the wound. A bath would be a luxury they have no time to administer." Her voice was gritty from disuse, slurred from exhaustion, but had a bit more sharpness than was normal. She did not like being dirty as much as it appeared. If she were any stronger, she would likely begin to scratch off the layer of grime with her nails. It disgusted her and put her in a rather foul mood. He offered her flowers as if it were expected of him, there was little to no kindness in the gesture other than the fact he had taken the time to come and see her at all. That was nice, she supposed. She eyed the flowers slowly, apathetically, wondering what on earth she would do with them. He seemed to pick up on the meandering course of her mind, retracting the flowers until he found somewhere to put them. When he sat, Edreina could not stop herself from thinking, Your pants will get dirty... For some reason, she found that to be immensely sad. "I could service you. For a large discount. Would that make you feel better?"" This nearly made Edreina laugh. Nearly. As it were, the left corner of her lips twitched pathetically. "Did your wound require bandaging? If so, where? Show me." His concern was obvious, but the tone in his last words told the haggard redhead that there was no room to argue. Using as little energy as possible, Edreina sat up with her legs hanging from the bed, feet landing upon the cool floor in such a way that she shivered once. Sitting up, her bandaging was more obvious. White gauze and linen encircled the redhead's shoulder, looping beneath her armpit. Her hair was flicked out of the was as she motioned to it. With her left hand, she caught the edge of the wrappings and exposed her wound to the open air, hissing as it smarted slightly. It was a straight wound, about as wide... no as wide as the blade of Razkar's gladius. Thin black sutures held it together, giving it an oddly knotted appearance. The wound itself was a thin, dark brown scab that wept clear, odorless liquid at either corner. As she covered it once more, Edreina wondered if Matthew was squeamish, but he had insisted that she show him. That thought was quickly covered up by the memory that she had been asked to keep tabs on the color of the liquid oozing gently from the wound, to alert a healer if it darkened or began to smell. An infection was the last thing she wanted right now. Sitting up seemed to have cleared the apathetic Svefra's head a touch, as a sheepish smirk flickered over her features before dissolving. "Not so bad, eh?" She shrugged once out of habit then cringed as her wound shouted at her.

[Matthew]

Her thought to his pristine pants was reflected in his mind, though the voices in his head screamed at a much louder volume. Out of all of the facial expressions he struggled to keep underneath the professional facade, his discomfort at sitting on the floor was the most obvious. His entire face twitched almost at once, eyes darkening a shade in utter displeasure. The smallest of grunts leaked from his lips, but he dedicated himself to his perch nonetheless, wiggling a little more as if this would help him avoid the grime beneath him. It actually did the exact opposite, though he paid no mind to it. He forced himself to pay no mind to it, refusing to allow it to bug him. He had came here to be a friend. The word echoed in his mind, and he narrowed his eyes. He wasn't so dark and gloomy to complain that he didn't have any friends. It was nothing as cliche as that. He had simply never given it any thought before, or really cared. He had probably had friends in the past. He had treated them much like he treated others, but that didn't seem to apply here. Distantly fond of both the red-headed girl and her barbarian companion, he wished to try a bit harder. At the thought of her hair, his eyes slide up to it, an expression of dismay briefly crossing his face. That seemed to trigger something in his mind, and his posture sharpened a bit, the bland look clearing out of his eyes to reveal some intelligent workings behind them. As she revealed the oozing wound, he nodded, apparently not effected by it at all. Instead he studied it like a wizard would study a relic, darting his gaze over every little inch and resisting the urge to reach out and touch it. He had enough medical training to know how to properly clean and bandage a wound, but he was sure that the people here had received at least that much training and then some. Frowning slightly, he completely seemed to ignore her playful question, instead continuing to intensely ponder the now-covered wound. Lifting a finger, he tapped his lower lip, eventually sliding his eyes up to stare into her own. He held her gaze for a moment, slowly stood, and then walked out. Just like that, simple and straight-forward, without a bit of hesitation or explanation. He closed the door behind him, once again leaving her in gloom. More conversation would suddenly spark outside of the door, a bit heated this time, Matthew's aggravatingly patient and calm voice seeming to argue with a bewildered one. They traded phrase after phrase, until something Matthew said rendered his opponent wordless. Matthew said a few more things, and even more silence followed, his social combatant apparently rendered mute. After a few chimes, there was a loud sigh, and then the sound of feet shuffling off. A few chimes more, and Matthew returned, closing the door with his foot, a large amount of new luggage in tow. He was carrying two wooden buckets of fairly clear water in each hand, a large sponge in his mouth, a bar of soap stuck underneath his chin, and what looked to be medical wrappings under one of his arms. Setting the buckets down carefully, he arranged all the items in a neat little line, blue eyes flicking up to Edreina. "Take off your clothes. I am giving you a bath and redressing your wound. If not me, Erik volunteered. He said he had some things he wanted to ask you." Face straight and eyes bland, he quickly stripped off his shirt and meticulously folded it into a neat little square. Glancing around, he eyeballed the nearby jar of flowers, and was quick to plop his article of clothing right down on top of them. Dipping one of the bars of soap into the lukewarm water bucket, he churned it with both hands, creating something of a frothy mess. Glancing up to her again, if she hadn't made a point to hurry up undressing herself, he was more than happy to continue to press it. "If not that, then I have other ways of getting you to take your clothes off. There will be a bill attached." If it was a joke, he sounded dangerously serious. Perhaps that was part of the joke. "Just clear off your bunk and wait there. I don't want you sitting on this floor."

[Edreina]

It took several ticks for the horror at Matthew's reappearance to be named. He was going to bathe her... with a sponge. Had she not been so horrified by the idea, Edreina might have found the idea to be oddly erotic. Instead, she was trying to figure out a way out of it. She could not let a man whose body was a weapon see her bare, shy, completely not herself, see her at her most vulnerable. "Take off your clothes. I am giving you a bath and redressing your wound. If not me, Erik volunteered. He said he had some things he wanted to ask you." That, however, left no room for her to argue. There was no way in hell she was going to let that squire see her naked. In her nervousness, she might let something slip. With a bit more hurry than was necessary, enough to make her head spin and legs wobble, Edreina stood and began to shimmy out of the breeches Raz had so kindly brought her. Then came the hard part... The linen that bound her chest was a sort of safety net, it made her feel like she fit in. Without it, she felt ugly, deformed, like some sort of freak. Damnit it all, she could not control how her body had formed! If only men of her people would understand that... With a sigh, she reached behind herself with her good arm and untied the knot that held her together from behind. With a flurry of motion, the pressure on the bandage unfurled it so quickly she had trouble catching it before it hit the ground. Blushing brightly, she was just about to ask Matthew where he wanted her when she was intercepted. "If not that, then I have other ways of getting you to take your clothes off. There will be a bill attached. Just clear off your bunk and wait there. I don't want you sitting on this floor." The first part made Edreina blush and shiver oddly. Her curiosity began to brim but she squelched it down quickly. Well, she did not do it consciously, but something kept Edreina from voicing her curiosity. Brow lightly furrowed, she took the end of her down pad and bent it in half over a mass of blankets and her pillow so that half of the bed's wooden frame was exposed. Refusing to remove her linen underthings - really now, she could wash that herself - Edreina sat carefully upon one of the slats that supported the bed. This would certainly be interesting...

[Matthew]

He wouldn't mean for it to be insulting, but it was up to her to determine the way she felt about his reaction to her slow strip. He was a petching blank canvas, not batting an eye, not wandering an eye, not giving any sort of reaction besides giving her almost-bare form a careful once-over. A small nod followed, Matthew satisfied that the only wound was the one she had covered in the bandages. He continued to churn the water to a further messy froth, eyes watching her carefully, almost warning her with their stare. If she dared stop or try to fight back, he had something up his sleeve. While was normally the one who wouldn't say no to anything, he was now the one who wouldn't accept no for an answer. After she had settled onto the edge of the bed frame, he gave one last final nod, and gracefully moved over to her. Dipping the sponge in the water, he reached out with it quickly, and then just as quickly paused. His brow furrowed as he realized he couldn't scrub her like he scrubbed himself, which was all business and sometimes rather painful. He chewed his lip, studying her eyes, an enigma of thought churning behind his own sky blue windows. After a moment of pondering, he retrieved the rest of the buckets, making up his mind on how to handle this. "Go ahead and remove the bandage as well, please." Even though his tone was still commanding, he made sure to still try and add something polite to the end of it. Kneeling at the floor in front of her feet, he took a breath, and began. There was only one way he knew how to bathe a woman, sadly. Funny that bathing a woman was even a part of his skill set. He lifted one bucket to drizzle the warm water onto her knee in a tiny waterfall, the liquid splitting off and running in tiny streams down her legs. He drizzled some up her thigh, letting it slope around and under, giving the other leg the same treatment. Settling the water bucket back down, he then grabbed the other bucket, soapy and warm, dipping his sponge in it and lifting the dripping foaming mass to her right leg. Momentarilly, he sensed her shame, giving her a curious look. He was still convinced she would make a good harlot, but had learned from Razkar not to bring it up. If he dared, he feared the Myrian would explode through a nearby wall. Instead, he kept his comments to himself, going back to his task, settling into his most natural facade. His body relaxed, muscles melting, and he slowly slide the sponge down the length of her leg, taking his time in gently stroking away the dirt. His touch with the soap was all-too-gentle and much too loving, caring. He stroked at the skin like an artist worked his canvas, slowly swirling the dirt into little rivers of mud that he could work with. He would dutifully clean the sponge, rinse her leg a little, and then start scrubbing another area of it. He worked her feet and calves, knee and under, and even casually spread her legs open to work the inner thigh and underneath. He was gentle with his touch, fingertips light if he ever had to touch her, carefully cleaning her body back to the color and feel that she was familar with. Moving to the next leg, he repeated the same thing, glancing up at her to see how she was fairing. He was still gentle and careful, recalling past experiences with past customers, figuring that a free washing would be a good enough donation to her healing. Remembering his encounter with the girl at the massage parlors, he tried his best to massage at the skin while he scrubbed, likely failing. He did what he could though, patiently taking his time with her long limbs, making sure he was getting every little bit. Soon the water pooled around him as it dripped on the floor, but he continued dutifully, knowing nothing else that he could do. Absentmindedly he spoke, aware that silence could be uncomfortable. "Did Razkar rip your offender in half, or are you incredibly awkward with a kitchen knife?" That was a joke. His glanced up at her, eyebrow raised as his hands continued to sensually clean.

[Edreina]

In a way, she was glad that he did not react to her being bare chested. It was better than an adverse reaction. He paused before beginning to bathe her, uncertainty flashing in his familiar eyes. "Go ahead and remove the bandage as well, please." He spoke to her like one of the healers. The fact that he was not making a big deal about this, like some immature boys would, was comforting. She had worried that being bathed would be an awkward affair, but now she could see that it would be rather pleasant. With her left hand, Edreina fumbled with the bandage for a moment before managing to get it undone and unwound, blinking rapidly as the angry wound smarted once more when exposed to the air. The bathing began simply enough, him drizzling water down her legs so that they could become accustomed to the temperature and to loosen some of the grime. When he began to actually clean her, Edreina found herself quickly lulled into complacent calm, resting back on her elbows while he worked on her legs. Each stroke was delicate, tender, but his precision seemed to give away the businesslike attitude he held for it. A lover would dwell upon the parts of the body that garnered a reaction from their partner instead of simply moving on, making sure that each part was carefully cleaned. Layers of filth, though they might actually be rather insignificant to anyone who actually lived in the city, not on a boat where access to cleanliness was as easy as leaping overboard, slowly melted away to expose strips of honey-colored flesh. As much as she hated relying upon anyone, it was nice to have Matthew pamper her. He did not seem to be doing it because he expected something in return, but because this was the only way he knew to help a friend get better. A friend... Yes, she considered the young escort to be a friend of hers. She felt comfortable around him, comfortable without any of the distracting, mind-numbing sexual draw she experienced with some other men. For some reason, his overt sensuality was less attractive to her than the long battle in which she managed to draw some tenderness, some sensuality, from a man. Being around him was simply soothing, for he exuded a practiced calm. "Did Razkar rip your offender in half, or are you incredibly awkward with a kitchen knife?" The redhead sat up just a little to smile at her friend, shaking her head. Oh, he was certainly going to have a ball trying to get a few of the knots out of her hair. Perhaps he could show her a few tricks while he was at it. "I... didn't really see what Razkar did to him," she admitted meekly, not wanting to go into the gory details of what she had heard. "But, you were right about my clumsiness with a knife..." she held up her right index finger, displaying a nearly faded scar that ran across the top of the digit. "Tis from gutting fish with my brother when we were younger." The memory brought a smile to her face and she found herself running the finger over the tail end of her tattoo, as if that would bring her closer to her family. Thinking of her own family brought a question to mind, one she might have normally saved for when she knew Matthew a bit better, but voiced at that moment to keep the silence from descending once again. "What of your family?" It was rather vague and terribly open-ended for a reason: this way, he would be able to divulge only the details he was comfortable with, and keep private that which he wished.

[Matthew]

He was contemplating the very thing she had noticed, logical mind trying to puzzle out if he was supposed to pleasure her while washing or simply wash her. He wanted to find a mix of the two, but his expertise was vastly in one direction or the other. He was always on for his customer, or off for everyone else. Trying to find something in between was proving to be difficult for him, and he wasn't sure how to handle it. He did not want to flip the switch and touch her like a lover, out of respect for the last person on earth she would likely suspect. He also knew how cold it would be to simply scrub her down, so here he was, stuck in an awkward in between of business-like and intimate. If he had known her thoughts, he would have marveled. She wasn't as clueless about the ways of intimacy that she seemed to think she was, and could likely teach him a thing or two. Though the young man didn't know it yet, the long drawn battle that she so enjoyed was something he wasn't capable of giving. It required intimacy over the long term, something that Matthew might never be able to offer. An idea came to mind, and he firmly spoke, eyes not looking at her as he focused on his job. "Are you familiar with Erogenous zones?" He let the question linger in the air for a moment, then continued on, explaining himself. "They are covered a bit if one studies anatomy. Instead of pressure points, they are pleasure points, where skin is particularly craving of touch. It is usually different for men and women." One of his bare soapy hands slid up the back of her leg, and she would feel fingertips just lightly swirl against the inside of her knee. Not quite massage, though he needed to learn it. Just a tender touch, and a little spin of his fingertip, the slickness of the water and soap causing the touch to slide easily. "There isn't an official name for this, but remember behind the knees." His finger twirled again, as if to prove to her that it was actually a place. He then continued cleaning, soon moving up to her wide hips, going back to his awkward mixture of gentle and professional. He was showing care in one of his odd little ways. Showing her where to tell a man to touch her, or even where she could touch herself. It would be odd if he wasn't so very obvious that it was so professional to him. He touched her and talked about it just as casually as trying to show someone to divide numbers. He nodded distractedly at her words, having really only asked to put something in the air for them to discuss. A smile was offered to her short story, eyes glancing to find the scar. He had none of his own. He had no doubt he would eventually have some. When she asked of his family, his shoulders visibly flexed and stiffened, his eyes slowly sliding to hers. For the first time his gaze was devoid of warmth or nothingness, and instead contained ice. He didn't hesitate to answer though, his words as carefully pronounced as always. "My father is a high ranking official in the Zeltiva ship trade. My mother is a headmaster at the Zeltiva University. She is the reason I was working to get my certificate of medicine and become a doctor." Her hips had been cleaned, and he now moved to her stomach. Switching the topic, his empty hand brushed fingers along her waist, just barely pushing down the front of her underpants so he could trace the waistline. "This zone is called the Mons." The location was just above her heat, and just barely below her waist, dancing a line between a simply sensual touch and a overtly sexual one. "Usually forgotten because when a mouth or hand strokes over the stomach, it usually slips right past to go straight for between the legs." A gentle touch swirled the area again, fingers soft and slick, his voice still soothing and calm. He then continued on, standing a bit so he could comfortably rinse and soap her sides and stomach, and then rinse them a final time. "How do you like Syliras and the Herald?"

[Edreina]

Obviously, the subject of his family was a sore one overall. Perhaps she should not have brought it up at all. But what he did reveal fascinated the redhead. She found herself tilting her head thoughtfully as she considered his words. So he was well off, explained the behavior, and had been on the road to a great life because of his schooling. But, for some reason, he had leapt from the lap of luxury for a life as a harlot. There was something oddly admirable about his decision to forge his own way of living in this world. As he moved upwards, she reclined onto her elbows once more, watching dispassionately as more of her skin was revealed. As he pressed lightly between her hips, Edreina felt a warmth bloom of its own accord, flaring curiously then ebbing back into darkness as he removed his touch. Hmm... Mons.. I'll have to remember that one... "How do you like Syliras and the Herald?" That question was a bit difficult to answer without rambling about her various angles and opinions. But, she attempted it the best she could. "I don't really like it, to be honest... Too cramped, too dark... I don't know how people here function with so little time in the sun, in the fresh air. I mean, the people here seem to be really nice and quite interesting-" Nice enough to take you hostage? "-but they have nothing on my own people." Her smile was small, but fond. He had given her some insight into his life. She might as well do the same. "The only time I really feel at home is at the Arms... People there are less... more able to focus on the moment instead of worrying over the future..." A hand found its way into her hair, before dropping with annoyance. How in the hell was he going to get these knots out of her hair without cutting it all off? "The Svefra are much the same. There is always work to be done, but we know that at any moment, we could meet our end. So we enjoy our lives while we can." Speaking of her people, fellow children of Laviku, inspired a gentle aching in her heart, a longing to return to the sea.

[Matthew]

He nodded at her words, eyes still focused on her skin. He used her as a way to study almost, full lips barely whispering the names of several other different spots on her skin. There were the soft spots, the pleasurable spots, the warm spots, and the spots that could be used for climax. There were ones for pain, ones for weakness, ones that tickled, and so many more. The body was such an interesting thing to him, responding to different touches with vastly different reactions. He did not actually focus on any more for now though, trying to listen to what she had to say. He completely agreed with the first point she made, having his own issues with the sunless sky of Syliras. When she mentioned her Svefra kin, he perked a bit in interest, having recently found a love for the water. If they ever met again in that scenario, then he would have to bring that up with her. Warm water flowed over her breasts, and he dutifully scrubbed them as well, being particularly gentle with the sensitive area. He paid attention to detail as he cleaned over, under, and around; and then slowly moved to wash her arms and underarms. Even her fingers were given a good scrub, with the focused Matthew paying particularly close attention to her grimy fingernails. He seemed determined to find every single piece of dirt there was, and he was doing a rather fine job at it. "I understand. I am not that fond of the lack of sunlight either. Even in Zeltiva, we had the ocean and the sky nearby. Even if sometimes we couldn't see it, the buildings were never so thickly built that we couldn't hear or smell the sea and sky." He enjoyed his home city, he really did. There were just things he couldn't do there. A life he was expected to live there. He wasn't particularly upset with the amount of control over his life. Just the fact that he felt he had been built foreign, a construct that wasn't something of his making. Like he was a little golem running around, his brain the only thing that was truly his. If he thought about it, was what he did here even something that was truly him? Or was it just another little golem running around? Frowning to himself a bit, he quickly went back over her body, rinsing it dry. The skin practically glowed, the man apparently able to do amazing work with a sponge and some soapy water. His pants were practically ruined as a result, the harlot having to move around on his feet and knees within the dirty water on the floor. Not a word was uttered of it though, Matthew instead handing her the sponge and some water. "Work on cleaning your private area, please. I'll turn around. I'll turn back around in another fifteen seconds." Just like that, he turned, and her timer was set. He would dutifully keep his back turned, though he didn't see the fuss. Didn't she know the sight was nothing new to him? He supposed it still was a private area. When the time was up, he would turn back around, body rippling with graceful motion. Regardless of if she was through or not, the sponge and bucket would be plucked from her hands and set aside. His blue eyes studied her hair next, a comb extracted from his pocket as he analyzed the new puzzle in front of him. He always carried a comb for his own hair, and now it had come in use for someone else. "Do you have plans of somewhere to go after here?" He kept the conversation going, putting the comb in his mouth to free his damp hands. Lowering them, he very gently stroked his fingers through her hair, testing for the knots. The man was pristine with his fingers for obvious reasons, and slowly began working the bigger knots loose with just his hands. He would do this, and then finish the back of her, and then hopefully she would be clean again.