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<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-b">Winner:</span></span> Actually, you'd rather have some conversation.
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">19 on the roll to determine what Hilde is getting up to</span></span>
Your face twists into a frown at Fiona's question.
The words of your old pastor comes to mind, from when you were the village altar girl who assisted the old man in his duties at the church. To shape your deepest troubles into words and share them with a friend is to understand what ails you. By speaking them you define them, by defining them you can understand them, and through understanding them you can reconcile with them. The LORD of Light aids in every step of course, for all humanity are His beloved children, and He is your loving father who would happily lend his wisdom and his ear.
At the same time, you feel as though the Witch of Depravity's obscene affections - if it's right to call how strongly she came on with her desire to forcefully <span class="mu-i">make you hers</span> affection - have left behind a disgusting film of slime that covers every inch of your body. Refreshing your throat with water and chatting away on little things has left your mood improved, but such a heavy conversation may well drown you in the moment.
You want a bath before you take on such a heavy topic. No, you <span class="mu-i">need</span> to relax yourself and let these feelings melt away before you discuss your experience in that khemical nightmare. Nor can you truly count Fiona as a friend. You like the woman, certainly more than you like Damien, but you have barely known her for a week.
She and Damien will need to know, though. Damien will also need to know about the state of young Alex, if the boy is to receive proper treatment.
And, as luck would have it, he has called upon the assistance of your closest friend in setting up a sending stone.
"Alright, Fiona." You sit up with a groan. Imaginary it may have been, the strain of combat from your dreams has left your physical body sore and heavy - all the more reason to soak in warm water. "If we're to talk about the Witch of Depravity, I'm going to need a hot bath and a stiff drink first. Preferably at the same time. Luckily for you, my dear friend Hilde should be able to provide us with both."
Fiona's face pinkens at the thought, and with a far more formal tone than before, she comments that, "Sharing a tub is a bit intimate, isn't it? I didn't take you for a woman's woman, Dame Louise..."
"I'm not," you snort with wry amusement. She's hardly the first woman to mistake your preferences, though most who do end up coming onto you. At least until you grab them firmly by the shoulders, look them straight in the eye, and tell them that you like <span class="mu-i">men</span> who have big, fat <span class="mu-i">tomes</span> that throb with arcane power. There's no need to tell Fiona about that, though, as she's clearly not interested. Instead, you say that, "Setting aside that I can barely fit inside the standard camp tub, <span class="mu-i">no</span>. I figured we could celebrate the restoration of the thermae."
