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[The aches and pains of traveling have visited Jill in the soles of her feet, only to creep high along her legs until they've made a home in every inch of her body. A hot bath and some of Tarja's slaves would do her some good, but before anything resembling a tub comes into play, Jill's hair needs some attention. One too many battles have left their mark in the strands--blood spatter, bits of straw, dust, and the rogue chocobo feather--and Greagor knows what's wiggled its way into the folds of her braid.

Somewhere in the Hideaway is a hairbrush all her own, but where did she leave it? Probably in Clive's chambers, a space Jill finds herself wiling the day away to no one's shock. After all, childhood friends are wont to spend time together and as a team they strategize there more often than not. So she knocks on the door, lightly and politely, waiting for his permission to enter.]

Edited 2023-07-04 05:21 (UTC)

[The dust, grime, dirt, and blood accompanying travel was nothing new to Clive by now. For years he hadn't the luxury to worry about hygiene aside from the minimum to stay healthy, but now? Certainly, it was no luxurious trip to his private baths in the castle, but he'd be able to take the time now back at the Hideaway to scrub down both himself and clothes when necessary. Besides, even if it didn't always bother him, diplomacy seemed to be more part of his duties every day. And diplomacy tended not to go well when one smelled like they had a date with a particularly ripe morbol.

Placing his sword against the wall near his bed and his pack beside it, he takes a moment to stretch his arms up over his head, working out a crick in his neck. The knock on the door catches his attention, and he lets his arms drop, a hint of a smile on his face. Only one person on this ship knocks that way.]

Come in.

[Jill could say the same about the past few years. She would have been lucky to even have lukewarm water then, much less a decent cake of soap. Scratchy threadbare towels were the default. Things are obviously much better, so much so that she can tuck those darker days down and concentrate on the here and now. Like the now that gives her the reply she was looking for, granting her leave to guide the door open and shut it behind her. At this point, Jill could probably just waltz right into the room without bothering to announce herself. Gav seems to do it at the worst of times and no one has thrown him off the edge of the dock yet. But she is a Lady, if only in playful jest, with manners still intact.

A small smile easily curls the corner of her lips, something that seems to come out naturally when she's around him. She can't help it. Gods, she doesn't want to help it.]

I believe I may have left my hairbrush in here.

[Her tone makes it sound like her presence requires an apology, though she knows there is no need. Still, they just barely parted on the stairs. Seeing him again so soon? The gossipmongers would have a time with that.]

Have you now? I wouldn't expect such carelessless from one so put together.

[His tone, of course, takes on a familiar tilt of teasing, one that'd finally become once more comfortable between them. Clive turns around, taking in the appearance of the girl (no--- woman) that he'd only just departed from.]

Though considering the necessity of such a thing, perhaps put together isn't the phrase I should be using.

[Leaning with her back against the door gives Jill the impression of indifference once the teasing begins, though she does not let it fly without the kind of tit for tat that comes between the familiar.]

I wouldn't have need of it if you didn't go gallivanting into that hive of sleeping wasps. Is there not a saying about letting them lie or does that only go for dogs?

[Her eyes trail the line of his body upwards to the messy mop on his head. For someone with shorter tresses, Clive's seems just as filthy as Jill's.]

Perhaps, however, you are seemingly more one to need it than I am. I wouldn't deny you the use of it if that was the case. You just need but ask.

[He'd make some comment back regarding Torgal (but not really, he couldn't blame his best friend for anything, he could do no wrong), but the latter remark causes him to reach up and quickly brush his fingers through his own hair. It comes back with more gunk and dried blood than he's been happy to have as of late.]

I doubt that the brush could handle either of our hair in their states right now, well made as it is.

[She hums lightly, moving towards Clive until she's close enough to reach out and pick through his hair. Sure, it's a good excuse to touch him, but in truth, there's a section along the side of his head that is tangled and it's annoying Jill.]

I agree, but I'm still going to need it.

[A pause as she plucks out a particularly stubborn clump that looks like a mix of wasp guts and grass and flicks it off her finger in disgust.]

After a bath. Or perhaps many baths at this rate.

[Ow. Definitely a few strands of hair plucked out with that.]

Best start getting the water pumped into the bath, then. I can go do that for you while you find your comb.

[Luckily for him, his hair is messy enough on a good day that no one will notice, right? With that problem squared away, Jill takes a step back and nods.]

Very well. That takes enough time that I should find it. This room is only but so big.

[And now she starts walking around, muttering to herself.]

Now if I was a hairbrush, where would I be?

[He takes a moment to watch her, chuckling under his breath before leaving her to her search. Hopefully the object is laying on the corner of the table and not under a pile of letters yet to be read.

Clive tries to be tidy, truly, but look. He's still getting adjusted to actually having a bedroom again. That, and he shares said room with a wolf whose tail is big and strong enough to knock things over whenever it wags particularly fiercely.

It isn't long before he reaches the main bathtub of the Hideaway, which thankfully is unused at the moment. While he waits for Jill, he starts to get the water pumped into the tub, already hot courtesy of one of Mid's many fancy inventions that he can't wrap his head around.]

[Certainly Jill is not here to judge Clive on his housecleaning, though she ends up wondering when the last time he's looked under his bed. That's where she finds the brush amongst a fair number of dustbunnies, its location courtesy of that vicious hound tail. She'll have a talk with Torgal about that later. A honey sweet talk for she's soft on the wolf, promise, so it'll be a talk where Jill just ends up rubbing his belly and feeding Torgal scraps off her dinner plate with little disciplining.

She slips into the bathhouse, wolf by her heels, brush in hand, and a proud smile on her face.]

I almost had to call in Gav for assistance, but we persevered, right, Torgal?

[That gets Jill a happy bark in reply along with a wagging tail, the culprit of the day.]

[The tub is all filled, steam rising off the hot water, when he hears two familiar sets of footsteps approaching. Clive turns around and lets out a quiet laugh, striding over in order to roughly ruffle the fur on Torgal's head.]

Oh? Did he find it, or did he knock it off of something to begin with?

[Torgal makes a sound halfway between a whine and a growl, and Clive snorts as he ruffles his fur again.]

I suppose we'll forgive you either way. But the tub is Jill's, not yours, so you'll be needing to get your fur clean elsewhere.

I found it under your bed, so my assumption is that he's at fault. Not that I'm holding it against him. I don't believe he can control that tail of his as much as any of us would like him to.

[Torgal whines again as if to remind the two humans that he is right here and can hear them, but it just makes Jill laugh a little as she too ruffles his fur, fingers brushing against Clive's. The hound's been already forgiven for any past and future crimes, so no need to worry there.]

Ah. [It's a soft sound, barely above a puff of air. There is a pleased note to it, though her next few words counter that.] I do appreciate it, but please, go first. I still have to take my hair down.

[Which will take time and in turn, means the water will get chilly and then what will they do? Throw out perfectly good, just cold, bathwater? Or use a piece of crystal that's better off saved for emergencies? Silly, that. Clive can wash up while she goes to battle with the tangles.]

Are you certain you don't need assistance?

[While Jill's hair is most certainly lovely, he would never have the patience to maintain it on his own head. Especially in their line of work, which involves far more dirt and monster guts than any lady ought to be dealing with on a regular basis.

Still, if she insists, though he'll have to refill the tub after; Jill is certainly not getting into whatever mess the water is about to be the moment he gets in there. Clive begins to unstrap his gear with practiced ease, placing them in as neat a pile as he can manage for the time to the side. He'd as well brought a simple pair of clothing to wear afterwards while he gets his armor properly cleaned as now, and that lays next to it.

That done, he steps into the tub, letting himself sink into the water with a content sigh. Hot water is always a balm to sore muscles.]

Have you learned how to braid in the last few years?

[She's absolutely teasing him with that question, knowing the answer already, but Jill can't help but ask anyway. Saying no isn't quite an option; to be honest, if he truly does want to help, she'll let him. After all, nothing's quite as relaxing as having someone else do your hair.

Jill glances over at him climbing into the tub, taking in the sight of his nude backside. It's not a big deal to be naked around each other these days, not since that night on the beach, but she still very much appreciates the sight of his rolling muscles and broad shoulders. There's only one thing ruining the view.]

Only if you let me help with yours.

How hard could it possibly be?

[Look. It's strands of hair. He knows how to knot ropes in a dozen different ways; lightly tying some hair together should be a breeze. Clearly.]

I wouldn't say no, though I doubt it will take long. Still, I won't complain.

A bit more difficult than you'd expect, but if you believe you can do it...

[This will end badly, won't it? Still, never let anyone say Jill doesn't have full faith in this man.]

Good, because I do need something else to do other than stand here and watch you bathe. [She laughs softly, moving closer to the tub, hand open with her palm up.] The soap, if you will, my lord.

[It will very likely end badly. But who knows? Enthusiasm might win.

Maybe.

Perhaps.

Clive shifts a little in the tub to take a bar of soap that lays nearby, pressing it into Jill's palm.]

And here you are, my lady.

I'm forever indebted to your favor.

[Jill kneels down next to the tub, though it's not truly to mark her faux civility to his former higher station, but so she can dip the soap into the water, wetting the cake all around. It takes just a few seconds to work up a soft later that she unceremoniously applies to his hair where she click her tongue at the mess.]

I should be grateful that it was a band of wasps and not a Morbol, but this is just as unpleasant.

[Yet she still keeps at it, working the lather down to Clive's scalp and watches as the angelic white suds turn into horrifyingly brown foam.]

Edited 2023-07-13 00:04 (UTC)

I'll keep that in mind.

[He hums, leaning into the touch. The satisfaction of feeling cleaner aside, Jill's hands feel nothing short of lovely in his hair.]

If it was a Morbol, I dare say we would have been sprayed with soapy water at the dock before even being allowed in.

[A pitcher rests nearby, close enough that she doesn't need to move much to grab and fill it with bathwater. With a gentle touch to his forehead, Jill guides Clive into leaning his head back so she can rinse out the soap. Last thing either one of them needs is soap and dirt going into those precious baby blues of his.]

Sprayed? I lean more toward believing we would have been thrown into the lake itself, much less allowed on the boat.

[Clive does as asked, letting his eyes slide closed.]

And really, I doubt I would even blame them.

[It's a quick rinse that gets most of the dirt and gunk out of Clive's hair, but Jill's not done yet. She soaps up her hands again and gets right back in there, but this time, she's working slower in firm strokes, aiming for relaxation over cleanliness. If anybody deserves it, it's Clive.

She doesn't reply immediately, but when she does speak up again, her voice is much softer, almost a hush, lending well to the pampering.]

I think Torgal would. We never did get a chance to teach him how to swim.

[At the sound of his name, the hound huffs from his curled up position on the floor. It doesn't take a translator to interpret that he has no interest in swimming or being thrown in a lake.]

I imagine a brave, fearless hound such as him would have no trouble managing a little bit of water.

[The corners of his lips curve up in a smile. Oh, he knows that if he tried to toss Torgal in a lake, the wolf would manage to kick him in before he got close.

Meanwhile, he continues to let himself relax. Physical comfort was something rare to nonexistent in the days since Phoenix Gate... Until now, at least.]

The lake's a little more than a bit of water. It's no mere puddle after a spring shower, Clive.

[She can feel him begin to loosen under her fingertips and that's enough encouragement for her slide her hands down to the nape of his neck, pressing the pads of her thumbs against the tendons there. Everything feels so tight on Clive, but Jill doesn't blame him. It'll take more than a few minutes to work out years of stress and injuries, amongst other things.

But she's trying her best even if there isn't much certainty in what she's doing. Jill's never been the recipient of a massage herself--nothing past a good scrubdown by the Rosarian ladies-in-waiting years ago--but playing things by ear seems the easiest thing to do.]

And Torgal is a little more than a simple hound.

[There's another wolfy grumble and muffled woof from the wolf in question, but Clive just chuckles again.

As Jill continues, he begins to further relax, bit by bit. There's no shortage of stress and tightness built up in him, but her deft fingers are doing wonders on his muscles.]

Mm...

[Instinct tells her to press harder in some spots, where tension balls up into tight knots, and tread lightly in others where it seems a bruise or two (maybe five with how many battles Clive gets into) threatens to bloom. The soap lather helps her fingers glide across his skin, making a path along the curve where shoulder meets neck.]

Am I doing this right?

[He's not complaining, but she also knows Clive well enough that he'd suffer through the worst of things in stoic silence. Better to actually make him speak up with a check-in.]

[Continuing from here.]

Is that all it takes? Ask and I shall receive? One might think you're attempting to spoil me.

[Now she is definitely teasing him, but she's secretly appreciative that he's so dependable.]

I'd rather you bring back stale bread than a morbol tentacle if that helps you make a proper decision.

[She isn't wrong. Simply being reunited with Jill, knowing what he does, concluding what he does about her experiences in their time apart, was already enough in determining that it seems his place to alleviate as much as he can on her behalf. Always the one who is shielding, as opposed to being the one who is shielded, evidently.]

I should think the hideaway has plenty of stale bread if that was truly what you wanted. Regardless, point well received. I'll endeavour not to bring too many parts and pieces back with me of the morbol variety.

[She'll have to remind him, more than once if she has to, that he doesn't have to do all of that alone. More than willing to help shield herself, she's willing to shield him as well or at the very least, let him know that while everybody else needs saving, he needs saving too.

It won't be easy. These Rosfield boys are quite stubborn.]

And please, I beg of you, do not get too close to its mouth lest we have to bar you from entering the Hideaway altogether. Do know that I have no qualms about giving you a good scrubdown like we do a certain hound on occasion.

I have just enough sense to avoid that. [Not much. Just enough.] Perhaps next time Torgal is in need of a bath, I'll join him, in that he won't feel lonely. Although I gather you enjoy that time with him, even if it involves a good scrubdown.

Maybe, but if you join him, he can be the one to wash your back. My presence would no longer be needed.

[Clive just talked himself out of a good backrub.]

[Drat.]

You would put more stock into him washing me. Perhaps I've earned that. Although I would think your presence to always be needed.

The washtub only fits but so many. The more we put in it, the less room for soap, don't you think?

Then perhaps on that growing list of things to do, I ought to add the acquisition of a larger washtub. For our more unruly residents.

Will there be anything else, my lady?

Yes, one more thing for your list.

Take care of yourself.

I won't let anything happen to me. You have my word.

[Something he only hope to keep. He isn't sure he can stand to disappoint her.]

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