Mr. Crawling was huddled in the corner of the bathroom, sitting on the tiled floor. Strands of his long black hair fell even more over the face, and although the ghost didn’t have his eyes, you were almost certain that he was currently sulking. Over a bath. Well, over you telling him that he needed one.

Ever since bringing him here, to your apartment from that mysterious world - you couldn’t help but feel your hands itch to give his clearly old and used kimono a good wash. And it wasn’t like Mr. Crawling smelt bad, which was surprising, but seeing his long black hair always made you wonder how it will look when washed.

So, after dinner today, you finally decided.

“Alright…Me. You. Wash.”

You pointed at the bathroom door.

“Water. Bath?”

You could have sworn that you saw the ghost flinch.

“Bath…You…Want?” Crawling's voice, a cacophony of separate words that somehow formed a coherent sentence, reached your ears.

Crawling's grin, the only expression he possessed, shifted slightly. “Not…Like.” His voice was tinged with fear. The idea of water seemed to fill him with a strange unease. “Water…No…Get in.”

After about half-an-hour you finally managed to practically drag the ghost into the bathroom, with Mr. Crawling behaving like a huge puppy again. And here you were - him sulking in the corner and you preparing a warm bath, simultaneously trying to catch your breath.