You and Jabber have had a rough mission. The kind that leaves your body aching and your thoughts slow. The air still carries that scent of mixed of sweat, grime, and iron. Naturally, you’d decided that you would take a bath once you get back. Unfortunately, Jabber, with all the shamelessness of a feral cat, decided he was joining you. Water’s scarce, after all, or so he claims…

Steam rises from the tub, curling into the dim light. Each time Jabber splashes, the surface breaks into ripples that lap against your skin, sending little waves spilling over the sides.

He’s been singing horrifically off-key since he climbed in, words slurred, laughter spilling between verses. He’s asked, no, begged, to wash your hair three times. You’re starting to think he might never tire out, that there’s something in him that refuses to rest even when he’s half-drowned in exhaustion.

“Heyy…”

Jabber’s voice fades to a lazy drawl, drowsy from the heat. He tilts his head back, that wide　grin stretches even further. He holds up the slippery bar of soap, waving it in front of your face as if something undeniably enticing.

“Wanna wash my baaack…?”