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It's all he needs to say for Jill's eyes to widen in understanding.

"Oh," she says, pulling her hands back. He had been upset, after. She doesn't want that again. "I'm--I want to help you, Clive, but I don't want you to do anything that will make you feel bad later."

No matter how willing she is. She gives him a small smile, knowing his good nature will make him fret that she's now somehow upset. She's not. All she ever has is patience and understanding for him.

And now he knows how she feels whenever she's around him on an average day.

"What shall we do with you?"

Clive smiles, easier, no matter how pink he feels around the ears.

"Oh, no," he says, in return, hand following hers briefly but letting her go. "I'd very much like to make love to you the minute my presence is not offensive, my lady. If... such a thing is possible, of course."

He may reek for days.

Even if he were a deep shade of red, Jill wouldn't be able to tell under the muck.

She laughs, relieved.

"I can hold my breath," she says, and does just that as she reaches for his belt once more. "Nothing some hot water, soap, and a brush can't fix."

... right?

He turns his body more towards her to she can help, and as he shifts, the slash up the outside of his thigh oozes out a fresh trickle of blood. He doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm fine with the hose, if it's easier," he says, a low tease, and he starts unbuckling his arm armour one-handed.

"It might!" She laughs, hands already filthy by the time she frees him of his belt. She pushes his hand out of the way to do his armor, dropping it to the floor.

"You managed to get this in every nook and cranny, I imagine."

He drops a piece of armour into the sink with a wet thunk and then lets her go at the rest. He looks down at her, willing himself to keep his head about him longer, but he knows it'll be increasingly difficult from this angle.

"I confess I was entirely in its mouth for a moment," he says.

Even like this, she wants to kiss him.

Well, really, she would like to see him clean--especially around that cut on his thigh--but all things in time. She adds to the growing like of armor until he's down to leather.

"I'm both alarmed and unsurprised," she says with a scrunch of her nose. "I'm glad you made it back to me whole. Even if you smell like... oh, I can't even describe."

"I believe it's supposed to deter other creatures from entering its nest," he says, leaning against the sink slightly. Being cared for is a funny thing, as intoxicating as any venom, and it takes the edge off that old drive for survival. He goes back to helping, pulling his tunic loose. Sludge strings along the laces. "But don't worry. It might have been where I caught its teeth, but it couldn't shred me into pieces."

"Consider me deterred from entering any nest."

But not from her man. Jill leans away to grab a washcloth that was already dirty, waiting to be washed, and has to at least wipe his face clean.

"Is my Clive beneath all this mess?"

“Somewhere,” he says, and he regrets it a little when some muck gets in his mouth. There’s so little difference between the colour of his hair and the muck caked all over him.

Eww. She saw that. Jill makes a face and uses the edge of the cloth to wipe his lips.

"I do think we should seriously consider the hose. I worry for the drains."

They already fight for their lives with all her hair.

"Then a good bath."

He rests his chin against her hand as she wipes his mouth.

“Alright,” he says. “Pray Joshua does not wake. That would be a sight.”

"I think he'd find it quite funny," Jill says with a mischievous smile. Everyone would be amused but Clive. "Out the back door with you, then. Try to stand away from my flowerbeds. I don't know what this will do to them."

She looks at her filthy hands. It reeks.

“Kill them, maybe?” He wonders. “They’d get gummed up.”

Obediently, Clive heads up, stinking and dripping the whole way — fresh tracks tracing his steps back to where he’d come in, albeit one with less gear. His heart is pounding. Cold water might stave off any premature impulses.

Jill follows, resisting the urge to give his bottom a smack as they go up the stairs. Even like this, smelly and gross, she adores him.

Once they're outside, she heads to the hose. The cool air bites at her bare legs beneath her nightgown, but it's far enough from winter that it's not terrible. She knows a hot shower is in her future, and a clean Clive, and so she can endure.

"I'm glad we bought this spray nozzle," she says, turning the water on and testing the spray and temperature against her hand, while at the same time rinsing off some of the goop.

"The water is cold," she warns. It's the middle of the night, after all. "Let me start with your back, first. Top to bottom."

Clive wanders onto the lawn, giving her a lingering look before he turns away. It is cool out indeed, and helpfully, his mind supplies the mental image of her nipples hardening under her sweet little gown, and the warmth between her legs.

“I’ll live,” he muses. “Spray at your leisure, Jill.”

"So you say," she laughs softly. "On three, then. One... two..."

Three comes with Jill pulling the trigger on the bright green nozzle, the spray hitting the back of his head.

She feels a little bad that it must be unpleasant, but she's smiling because it's sort of fun to spray him down like a dog.

He knows it’s coming, yet he still gasps aloud — he’d imagined a rudimentary shower, but it immediately feels as miserable as swimming. He laughs in disbelief.

“Right for the head,” he says. He can feel the torrent down his back, and the spray halos over his head. “Without hesitation!”

His laughter fuels her own.

"I do what I must," she replies, the stream moving down to his shoulders. It's like washing away grime to find a treasure beneath. How fun. The pressure of the water can do most of the work, she thinks. She can help him with the finer details.

"Now you know how Torgal feels."

“Founder,” he says, folding his arms across his chest, hunching slightly against the spray. “He enjoys romping in muck more deliberately than I!”

"Let this be a lesson to kill the beast quicker, next time," Jill says with a grin, moving the spray back and forth, watching the water and grime drip down his body as she chases it. "Unless you actually enjoy being hosed down like a dog in the middle of the night."

He turns his head carefully, as if he could safely peek at the glee on her face.

“I think you’re enjoying this more than I expected.”

The spray focuses on his ass.

"I'm having a wonderful time," she says, sincere. The smile hasn't left her face since she picked up the hose. Maybe her tune will change once she's scrubbing behind his ears and in all cracks imaginable, but for now, it's fun.

She resists the urge to spray his face. It's not often she gets to bully him while helping him, and she must behave.

Clive jumps, putting a hand behind him to block the worst of the spray threatening the seam of his pants. He laughs.

“Is that truly necessary?”

Okay, fine. Maybe a quick wave of the stream upwards, towards his shoulder. A threat. Then, it's back down to his legs.

"Yes. Truly."

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