The bathroom is silent save for the occasional dripping of water onto the floor. The tub is barely big enough for the two of you, but you manage. Mydei is sat between your legs like a wet cat, the broad expanse of his back bared for your eyes to see. You slowly trace over the red marks that branch over his skin, making your way to the large gash oozing golden blood into the water. Mydei doesn’t even flinch. He’s used to flesh wounds, used to you fussing over them.

He grunts softly as your fingers trail lower, to his tenth thoracic vertebra. His weak spot. “Careful,” he murmurs gruffly.