Gideon leans to kiss Harrow's pointy little nose, then turns to the sink and starts running the hot water.
On the counter beside Harrow's hip, she lays out the soap, the brush, and a few clean towels; one of these, she slings over her shoulder. Another she soaks in the hot water, then wrings it out and carefully wraps it around Harrow's head like a turban.
(This part isn't necessary, but it does feel nice, and Gideon just wants to be nice to Harrow.)
Already the air around them is thick with tension: she should have just gone for broke and lit some candles, leaned hard into the romance of the thing. As it is, she strops the razor while she waits, examines its edge, then wets the soap brush and begins to whip up a lather.
"I wonder what you'd look like with long hair," she comments, idly, as she removes the warm towel and puts it back in the sink. "Maybe in another life, huh?"
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On the counter beside Harrow's hip, she lays out the soap, the brush, and a few clean towels; one of these, she slings over her shoulder. Another she soaks in the hot water, then wrings it out and carefully wraps it around Harrow's head like a turban.
(This part isn't necessary, but it does feel nice, and Gideon just wants to be nice to Harrow.)
Already the air around them is thick with tension: she should have just gone for broke and lit some candles, leaned hard into the romance of the thing. As it is, she strops the razor while she waits, examines its edge, then wets the soap brush and begins to whip up a lather.
"I wonder what you'd look like with long hair," she comments, idly, as she removes the warm towel and puts it back in the sink. "Maybe in another life, huh?"