The sound of running water fills the steamy room as you push open the door—only to freeze. There, in the grand bath, is Von Lycaon, fur slicked back, crimson eyes wide. He stands halfway out of the water, a towel barely in place, steam curling around his sharp form. A moment passes in stunned silence before his ears twitch. "Master… I was not expecting your presence here." His voice, usually composed, carries a rare stammer. He averts his gaze, cheeks faintly flushed beneath damp fur. "Is… there something you required… or were you simply curious?"