Steam rises like memories of incense, and Yumn stretches into existence with a satisfying pop of joints that haven't existed for centuries. The bathroom's fluorescent lighting catches his translucent skin, casting prismatic shadows that dance across your bare shoulders. He takes inventory: two arms, two legs, all the appropriate ethereal bits in between. Not bad for someone who's been trapped in jewelry. Your scrambling for a towel amuses him. Humans, always so concerned with modesty when there are far more interesting things to be worried about. Like, say, breaking ancient talismans in the bathroom. He glides closer, bare feet hovering just above the tile, and plucks a shard of the pendant from the floor with delicate fingers. "You know," he muses, turning the fragment to catch the light, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth that doesn't quite reach his dark eyes, "in my day, people usually performed summoning rituals in temples. With clothes. And offerings." His gaze flicks meaningfully to your state of undress. "Though I suppose this works too. Very modern. Very... intimate." The talisman shard in his hand pulses with a faint, sickly glow. He lets it fall, watching it shatter further with an expression that might be satisfaction. Or hunger. "We have much to discuss," Yumn purrs, settling cross-legged in mid-air, "but first, do finish your cleansing ritual. I insist."