Gillian sighed as he relaxed, arms hanging loosely over the sides of the tub.If he was being honest, baths were the one thing about polite society that he missed. There was little better than one after a hard job, especially if that job involved the general chaos of a battle. “Hmph, now if only Mayon would bless the forest with a natural bath,” he sighs, demonic arm idly scratching his face. “But then I suppose I’d have to take note of her rites more often if she did.” Quickly he finished cleaning, wanting to enjoy the heat of the bath for as long as he could.

Something, however, disturbs his bliss. From the other side of the door he could hear a loud squeal followed by the excited chittering of some group. “Look at her hair, it’s so pretty!” he hears, muffled from the doorway. He rolls his eyes, writing off the minor disruption as gossiping maids. He sinks his head below the waterline, drowning out the chatter. 

He lets his mind wander for a few moments, trying to decide if visiting Parnella tonight would be the wisest choice. He’d want the boy to stay for dinner, and that undoubtly meant other guest as well, for there were few days where his mentor did not elect to play host in some fashion or another. As much as he loved his mentor, Gillian could not begin to imagine how deep his capacity (or patience for that matter) for hospitality ran. No, visiting while he was on his way out tomorrow morning would be best. Just a quick stop to pay his respect, perhaps a drink with his aged master, and then out the door before he could become entangled in some get-together. 

He is snapped out of his internal debate as his lungs begin to scream for breath, the air cold against his skin as he breaches the surface. It was time to get out anyway; he’d need the warm water to wash his clothing. He climbs out of the small tub, stretching to work out the craps as he begins to drip dry. He was about to begin cleaning when his door is suddenly and violently forced open, the door creaking in protest. He turns on the door out of instinct; arms raised and ready to tear into whatever poor fool who thought they could get the jump on him. 

Gillian’s mild paranoia prepared him for a lot of things. A maid with the wrong door, knights seeking to cleanse their order of him, and so forth. The young blonde captain throwing open his door though was not one of those things. The normally hostile glint in his eyes fades to utter bewilderment. “I…uh…yes captain?” he asks, forgetting his state of dress, arms dropping a bit as he unintentionally relaxed.