It isn't? [ Matt is fully focused on Tezcatlipoca and his various scrapes and scratches, so he misses that his reflection in the bathroom mirror is nearly pouting. His lips twitch. ] It felt like conflict to me ...
[ Between getting sprayed with blood as D decapitated a ravening cannibal, feeling the blast of Byleth's inferno roiling by, and spending his own blood on spells that were potentially stupid, but definitely combat, the battle in Springstar feels like the most conflict he's had in his life.
With a few exceptions.
Still, Matt's not put off by the question. He understands it to be a signpost--or at least he thinks it is. He steps in to accept the mysterious bottle and take a sip, finding the beverage to be thick, a bit sweet, and surprisingly crisp. Acidic? It's interesting for sure. ]
The purpose of conflict. [ Matt considers. ] Well ... I guess I think of it as zero-sum. One thing has to displace another. Evolutionarily, that's, you know. Resource competition. Not everything capable of life can exist all at once.
[ He reaches for the little vial of rose oil, holding it up for Tezcatlipoca's inspection. ] Can I put some of this on you?
[ He's using a diversity of oil applications, as Tezca may have noticed. But skin-to-skin is the best way to get the benefits, in his opinion. ]
[ He laughs a little at the pout, but Matt is at least saved from further ribbing about it because he takes the pulque. Tezcatlipoca even makes an impressed noise that his face doesn’t twist up, since it’s an acquired taste, usually. It doesn’t match modern tastebuds so well, but it’s a rare piece of nostalgia that he does indulge in. It’s also why he takes the bottle back, since it wasn’t easy to find, so this is one he’ll actually savor.
He's also impressed by Matt’s answer, honestly, though that one isn’t expressed right away. At least it’s mostly because Matt poses him a question first. ]
…Sure, why not. Won’t be goin’ out for a bit, so I can smell like flowers. Just watch the bruises.
[ He knows he probably doesn’t have to worry about that, but he’ll at least acknowledge them. Though, before that, he does lean over to the counter to open up one of the drawers that he’s claimed as his and grab a hair tie out of it. He deftly starts to pull it up into a loose bun to get it out of the way while he talks, since it’s not like it’s getting any less messy until he soaks the blood out. ]
But you pretty much got it. Conflict is what pushes things forward. Doesn’t matter what that thing is. The world is kinda lazy, when it comes down to it. Takes the path of least resistance. So, conflict provides what’s necessary for change. Doesn’t matter if we’re talk an individual or a civilization. You gotta endure the hardship to grasp the potential it creates.
[ He shrugs as he finishes and collects the bottle again, but he just swirls it idly rather than take another drink. ]
That’s why I embrace those that reach for it. Winner or loser, doesn’t matter. I welcome ‘em to my paradise either way.
[ The pulque hits Matt in waves, to be sure. But apart from a brief screwing up of his expression, a gentle drag of his tongue against the backs of his teeth, he primarily seems to find it "interesting."
He brightens when Tezcatlipoca accepts his offer, tipping a bit of the rose oil into his palm and wetting his fingers. He dabs oil behind Tezcatlipoca's ears, at the insides of his wrists, in the hollow of his throat. After a moment's consideration, Matt upends the rest of the vial and rubs his hands together. Gently, avoiding bruised spots, he runs his palms up Tezcatlipoca's back. Over his chest. ]
That's democratic of you, [ he approves. ] I guess where I run into questions is where, like ...
You seem very battle focused. And I think a lot of the hardship in my life is more ... I don't know, "individual versus society"? "Individual versus the self"? The idea of conflict is a bit more metaphorical.
That, and a lot of conflict as I've experienced it is-- [ He hesitates, more of a stumble as he weighs too late the wisdom of saying anything. ] It just feels like cruelty.
[ Tezcatlipoca closes his eyes as Matt starts to apply the oil, and his expression is almost serene. This part feels familiar. It might have even been nostalgic, if he hadn’t been in Matt’s position relatively recently. He had showed Izcalli where to apply oils, since that was part of the ritual of the ixiptlatli that he was expected to follow. It’s just a short, near-nostalgic memory, and he opens his eyes again once the application becomes more thorough. Plus, Matt’s considerations are a good lead-in for that answer from a minute ago. ]
Well, that’s why I say we might’ve been fated to meet. We met when those hardships suddenly became a lot less metaphorical, yeah?
[ There’s really a lot he could say here, but there’s also plenty of it that’s not strictly relevant. It’s answers to the questions like “where did the gods go”, and in his world, there are concrete answers to those kinds of questions. For Matt, who knows if that history is the same? And here in Kenos, what does it matter? So, he leaves all of that out. ]
Not to say that those kinds of struggles ain’t important, but they’re just not the kind that I dip my hand into at all. No need, basically. It’s matters of life and death that call out to me. I favor warriors and those who fight hard for their survival because who else needs looking after more? That’s part of why I ended up here, I figure.
[ He takes one of Matt’s hands with both of his and turns it so the palm faces up. He runs his fingers along the palm up to the fingertips, but it’s demonstrative more than an affectionate gesture. ]
Lots of hands here like yours, after all. A warrior with unblemished hands has a harder time standing up to the cruelty of the kinds of conflict I appear for. Doesn't mean I'll go easy on ya or let ya shirk away from what fate's picked you for—But I don't abandon those fighting for their future.
[ Matt's thoughts were already wending down a dark and particular labyrinth. The one he can never quite escape from, that seems to color all his feelings about violence. Tezcatlipoca's phrasing--life and death, fight hard for their survival--therefore strikes a specific chord.
Maybe he undersold the level of hardship he's been through. Underreported its depth, at least.
Tezcatlipoca draws his fingertips over Matt's smooth hand. Over his fingers, used to handling small tools and typing at keyboards, propagating plants and intimate touches. Matt's lips twitch.
Gently, he reaches out to encourage Tezcatlipoca's fingers back down his hand, over his fragrant, oiled palm to the much-bitten wrist. If he'll allow, Matt lifts Tezcatlipoca's hand up to his left cheek, guides it along the faint, hairline scar that he doesn't need a mirror to trace.
But before too long he pulls back, steps away. Reaches for the faucet to stop the water. With rose oil still lingering on his hand, it takes a moment's careful work. ]
Unless you want it a little fuller? [ he says. ] Otherwise, it's ready for you.
[ Tezcatlipoca does watch where Matt moves his hand, and his expression wrinkles a little bit as he draws it to the bite marks and then up to the scar on his cheek. He allows it, naturally, and he rubs his finger against the scar with a thoughtful noise.
He does look after Matt expectantly when he draws back, but he doesn’t speak to it. Matt may not say anything, but he thinks he gets the broad point of what he’s trying to convey. ]
Nah, that looks good.
[ Practical things first. Off come the pants, and— Oh, yeah. It dully occurs to him that this is actually his first time being dick out in front of Matt, since they’d never actually gotten to fooling around in the shower after that Kowloon breakfast. So, despite the serious tone of the conversation and the still serious place he wants to take it, he can’t help but laugh as he pauses on the hem of his briefs. ]
We’re comin’ back to that, by the way. [ He nods at Matt, but his eyes are clearly on his scar. ] But doesn’t quite feel right to get into when I’m about to whip out my cock for the first time.
[ He truly just says whatever, huh… But there’s no further preamble beyond his joking before he tugs the briefs off too, and casually tosses them in the pile. And his dick is not a coke can either, don’t worry. He brushes his fingers through the water to check the temperature first, then with a nod, he starts to get in. The water draws out an approving noise, and it turns into a full sigh as he sinks in. ]
[ Matt huffs a sigh when Tezcatlipoca says they'll come back to the scar issue. It would be totally unrealistic to expect him to not want to pursue the subject. And Matt doesn't really expect it? But you know, hope springs eternal.
His lips twitch for whip out my cock, juxtaposed with the unexpectedly tender for the first time. He can't help thinking, in tloque, in nahuaque. He also looks, of course. But he lets his gaze skate quickly up to Tezcatlipoca's face, offering him a small smile when their eyes meet. ]
It's a little asymmetrical to have you strip down while I don't, [ he admits, eeny-meenying through a small rack where he keeps his various soaps. He comes away with a creamy bar and eyes the tub, now +1 Mexica deity. Tezcatlipoca's sigh makes him smile faintly. ] ... Hang on, [ he decides, ] I'll be right back.
[ Matt leaves the bathroom, returning a minute later with a stool. He sets up next to the tub, soap in hand, and says wryly, ] This is better. Told you it'd been awhile since I did this.
[ He suggests it lazily, almost slurred as he leans his head back to really sink in and enjoy the water, but he does tilt his head Matt’s way as he leaves, but doesn’t ask. With the lead up there… No, he can’t imagine Matt is shy. Is he going to come back with…? Actually, he doesn’t know. But talking about stripping and then leaving makes the mind go places.
So, by the time he does return, Tezcatlipoca laughs to see that it’s just a stool. The water has a thoroughly reddish tint now, since he’d taken the time to lightly scrub off the wounds that were in the water as well as his face. With the blood washed away there, it’s clearer now that his lip got split somewhat, and there’s a cut and a bruise in progress on his brow. Nothing serious, but definitely easier to see now that he’s gotten some of the blood off. ]
Well— [ He starts, then pauses to lean towards the side Matt had placed the stool at. ] I’ll be honest with ya, even if you totally fucked it up, wouldn’t know. Didn’t exactly get baths like this, y’know?
[ Yet, if Matt had any hope that he might have escaped the line of questioning, Tezcatlipoca quickly dashes it as he reaches out and touches Matt’s bitten wrist delicately. ]
You wanna talk about it?
[ He asks, and yet… It doesn’t sound like a question with how he says it, exactly. ]
[ It's not until Matt comes back into the bathroom that he realizes oh, yeah, he could've stripped down. Ah well. Instead, he lays a washcloth over his thigh and shifts forward, eyeing Tezcatlipoca's various injuries as he considers the first place he wants to put soap to.
He stops when Tezcatlipoca touches his wrist.
Wanna talk about it is so clearly not a question, and yet Matt can't imagine telling him all the gory details. For one thing, Tezca's some kind of friends with Silco. He's happy Quetzalcoatl is gone. And while Matt thinks he's slowly learning more about Tezcatlipoca's perspective, he isn't confident that the story would be received the way he'd like. Hell, he can see Tezca being disappointed in him for not fighting back hard enough.
Ignore the fact that the "being disappointed in Matt for not fighting back hard enough" call is very much coming from inside the house. ]
I don't think there's much to say. [ Matt's gaze drops to the reddish water. ] I wonder if I should just let some of this drain and top it off.
Mm… [ There’s a little disapproval in the tone, since Matt rejects the opportunity to speak, and Tezcatlipoca brushes his thumb over the wounds lightly. ] I’ll be honest. Saw these and didn’t think much about it. I’m a biter, like to be bit, you know?
[ Maybe that’s rude to say, but Tezcatlipoca has proven that he isn’t the kind of guy to mince words… But it is honest, and maybe his roundabout, shitty apology. It is what he feels, since Matt putting it with the context of an old scar is what made him reconsider. ]
You don’t wanna talk about it, I ain’t gonna force ya. But I’ll listen if ya do.
[ He lets go of Matt’s wrist and shrugs as he looks at the water. ]
But, nah, it’s all good. Ain’t that bloody. You should’ve seen me when I was fightin’ Deinos with my Ocelomeh when we were hoppin’ around those dreams in the Oracle. You take down a fucker that weighs a few tons and that’s bloody.
[ Matt's not offended. It's what Amos thought too. He smiles slightly for I'm a biter, giving a soft hum of agreement. A bit nervous still: His hands don't shake, but his mind churns with potential revelations, with trying to map out the consequences of speaking versus not speaking. He wouldn't say the prospect of keeping this secret feels good, or even safe; but at least it doesn't expose him to any further judgment. Nothing will be set in motion that he can't take back.
It takes Matt a moment to place "Deinos" amid the various dreamscapes they encountered during the Advocate's trial. He sputters a laugh. ]
Oh my God, of course you got up close to those things. [ Matt dips the soap into the water. Pours a bit of water from his cupped hand to Tezcatlipoca's arm, still disapproving of the red tint, and starts to gently scrub with the soap bar.
After a moment, he exhales. ]
Some people are cruel, [ he adds quietly. Eyes on Tezcatlipoca's skin: the places he wants to avoid because of bruising, the places he can scrub and soothe. ] They probably have reasons. But all they do is reproduce the same boring, unnecessary pain, so who cares.
[ Matt makes himself breathe again. Makes himself relax, his shoulders sinking from where they've tensed. ]
I just wanted to point out that when it comes to all these questions about struggle and survival and things ... you know. There's more than soft hands to consider.
[ Tezcatlipoca’s smile quirks as if to say hell yeah I did, but stories of the Lostbelt are something he’ll hold onto for now. He figures Matt will be interested (because, to be fair, it is interesting), but the secondary part of the conversation lingers. It’s not so much that he doesn’t want to let Matt escape it as it’s just something more important, at least.
He shifts at Matt’s touch to allow him easier access. His gaze lingers at his hands for a few moments, but not long. Even if Matt goes over a bruise, he trusts him to be gentle, he figures. So, he looks at Matt instead. Tezcatlipoca’s gaze is always intense regardless of his intentions, because his pale eyes just had that impression naturally. But it does feel all the moreso when he’s waiting and listening for an answer. ]
Sure are.
[ The fact that he agrees might be surprising, at least until he elaborates. ]
But, well, gods speak in absolutes. It’s the way we’re made. I’m conflict, darkness, sacrifice, so those are the things I speak to. The inbetweens, those belong to someone else.
[ He breathes out a laugh as he closes his eyes, because it’s easy to picture Quetzalcoatl lovingly doting on someone like Matt. That’s what Matt’s comment reminds him of in the moment, and it’s not like he doesn’t get it. Hell, he thinks he gets it far better than Quetzalcoatl would. He’s a deity far closer to humanity than any of the rest of them, but that’s doesn’t mean the sentiment is returned. That could also be sad, but it’s not something he feels for it. ]
The soft hands are a metaphor. [ Matt probably knows that, but he sighs it out anyways. Leans forward so that he can put his weight on the side of the tub like a lazy, lounging jungle cat. But his expression is more complicated than that. ] Better to say that it’s guys like you I’m more concerned about? The cruel ones that fall into my domain easily, they know what’s up. Mean fuckers are my guys.
[ But clearly, that’s not exactly Tezcatlipoca himself. He can be harsh and cruel too, but he’s also empathetic (so far as gods can be, at least) and looks after others. The dichotomy couldn’t be better represented by the moment either, with the smell of roses and the bloody water. ]
All I can do is try and arm you with the tools and experience you need to endure. Literal or otherwise.
[ Tezcatlipoca shifts in the tub, and Matt smiles for the leonine vibes of it. He adjusts his own position, soap sliding to Tezca's shoulder and down over his back. Matt is gentle, a listening kind of gentle. Though he's watching Tezcatlipoca, listening to him talk, trying to manage his own emotions ... there's a corner of Matt's awareness reserved purely for the space the two of them occupy. Their warm gravity. The way Tezcatlipoca breathes and holds himself when he's comfortable, signs of tension or strain at Matt's touch. ]
You're also beauty, [ Matt can't help pointing out. ] Magic. The night sky, which is ... darkness in a way. But it's where all the stars are, so.
[ Which is to say, no wonder people can find Tezcatlipoca confusing.
It’s guys like you I’m more concerned about gives Matt an unexpected pang. He can't help thinking of what Tezcatlipoca's said before--not about concern, exactly, but its near synonym. The more I care about something. Maybe that's why Matt sometimes feels less than comforted by Tezcatlipoca's general demeanor. Maybe he couldn't be warmer if he wanted to. ]
But do you ever think-- [ Matt's hands travel down Tezcatlipoca's back. His arms are nearly elbow-deep in the water, bringing them into a position that's nearly an embrace; his voice is nearly at Tezca's ear as he goes on: ] That the cruel kind of conflict isn't for anything? Like ... a kicked dog biting someone because that's all it knows. That doesn't really seem like it's worthwhile to me.
[ He laughs when Matt points out his other domains, since it’s unexpected. People don’t usually get it, honestly. He also doesn’t bother explaining it, sure, but there never feels like a need to do so. So, he can’t disagree with the point.
He’s relaxed with Matt’s attentions, but as his hands start to move back, there’s just a little bit more tension that creeps in. It's subtle, but it’s not out of any concern so much as another confusing little aspect about Tezcatlipoca rearing its head. Being a god was playing a role, in many respects. So… ]
Hey now, I’m the one that’s supposed to be listening to you. You flippin’ the script on me? [ He’s not the one that gets embraced, and he feels not dissimilarly to how he had in the face of that much more urgent kiss. ] Sheesh… What a pain in the ass.
[ He complains about it, and yet, he does relax again in the almost-embrace. He sets his head on Matt’s shoulder and just closes his eyes for a moment. There’s the answer he wants to give—of course I think about it—but there’s the answer he has to give. It’s just so totally separate from a human understanding that he knows it isn’t fair to them. ]
Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Dunno and wouldn’t want to. [ He raises his head from Matt’s shoulder, but it’s only so he can pull back enough to look at him seriously. ] …What a struggle amounts to just isn’t somethin’ I control.
[ Matt's a little bit guarded, on alert for changes in the wind, so the start of the question makes him pause. But then Tezcatlipoca lets his head tip to his shoulder, and Matt relaxes too. Chuckles softly.
He manages a few more passes with the soap before Tezcatlipoca pulls back again. This, too, gives Matt a bit of a pang, though a far less complicated one--just a wish for touch, for the soft satisfaction of feeling someone soothed, relaxed, in your arms. He meets Tezcatlipoca's sober gaze with a frowning, curious look of his own.
Then he nods, smiling faintly. ]
I see. We're supposed to make our own meaning. [ His tone carries the warmth of an inside joke, but like Tezcatlipoca, he's serious. His smile fades into thoughtfulness. ] Well, that works out. I made a promise to myself when I came here that I'd try to resist the lure of easy answers.
And besides, [ as his hands start to move again, ] it wouldn't really be fair to make gods do all the work. We mortals are supposed to meet you halfway.
[ Tezcatlipoca nods, and his expression stays serious too. His expression does start to soften not long after Matt’s turns thoughtful, but even more as he lands on something much more understanding than Tezcatlipoca necessarily expects. That gets the serious look to positively crumble. ]
I mean… You’re right. But, fuck, don’t expect people to actually just get it.
[ Matt is more spiritual than the average modern guy, sure, but still. He’s surprised that this doesn’t turn into more of an argument, and a frustrating one at that. The disconnect Matt points out really isn’t usually one people understand, especially if they’ve encountered Tezcatlipoca of all gods. Though, granted… Matt has met him at his most laid-back.
He sighs, then reaches up to place his hand on Matt’s head and ruffle his hair fondly… And maybe with a little bit of annoyance. He doesn’t know what to do with you, Matt. ]
Well. All that aside. [ He lowers his hand back to a relaxed position and leans comfortably against Matt again too ] Whoever’s bitin’ ya, just aim for center of mass. Even if your aim ain’t great, no one’s gonna love gettin’ shot there, blood drinker or otherwise.
[ Matt laughs, faint and surprised--for the hair ruffle, for Tezcatlipoca saying he gets it. Even though Matt just said he means to resist being lulled by easy answers, he can't help warming at the validation.
Better than validation, though--or maybe a different kind of validation--is the way Tezca relaxes against him. Into his arms. Matt hums approval, letting the soap slide gently down Tezcatlipoca's side. Rubbing it over the arch of his hip. At the advice, Matt chuckles, a breathy one that slides into a sigh. ]
Center mass. Gotcha. [ Again, he tries to picture Silco's reaction to being shot. He tries to envision surprise, but all his mind conjures for him is an angry sneer. After everything that's transpired between him and Silco, Matt realizes all he really wants is to shock him, just once.
Anyway. That's neither here nor there. Tezcatlipoca is here: warm, close. Offering what Matt interprets as the best caretaking he can. Matt leans in, smudging a kiss to Tezca's temple. ]
[ Tezcatlipoca sighs too, but it’s softer. If not for how close they are, it could be missed, since it’s a quiet one. It’s comfortable, since he’d meant it when he said he was a god that valued relaxation just as much as hard work. It’s just not often something he personally does. Really, there’s just not much meaning to the concept when you already reside in what’s supposed to be paradise.
It’s why he laughs at the kiss and he gives Matt’s shoulder a little bite in return. It’s nothing that would pierce the skin, and it’s more akin to a playful nip. It’s an expression of how embarrassingly indulgent this feels, though naturally that’s quite hard for Matt to pick up on… Tezcatlipoca is fickle by others’ standards, but it’s more a reflection of how alien gods could be. ]
You’re gonna rot my fuckin’ teeth out. [ (complimentary) ] Yeah. I’m gonna have to designate you as my official hairdresser at this rate.
[ He reaches down and grabs the bottle from beside where he’d set it by the tub and takes a swig, but it’s with as little movement possible to pull himself away as possible. And, with another laugh, he adds: ]
You wanna fuck after this?
[ he really does just say shit huh
Or. It’s said casually and he means it casually. This is all tender and near-romantic in a way that Tezcatlipoca reflexively recoils from, so he deflects it. It’s not dissimilar to the first time they’d ended up fooling around in Kowloon, since it’s a way for him to avoid sentiment. ]
[ The nip gets a giggle from him--surprised rather than hurt, amused at Tezca getting a mouthful of his shirt. Matt's readying some quip about being hairdresser to the gods, but Tezca gets his blunt proposition in first. There's a pause, processing; then an answering laugh. ]
Yes.
[ That's warm, fond. If the question was meant to shock Matt from his tender mode, it doesn't seem to have done that, but at least he doesn't pepper Tezcatlipoca with any more little kisses. (For now.) Instead, he takes down Tezcatlipoca's hair, slipping the tie around his wrist. And reaches for the conditioner he'd prepared with rose oil.
It's a pleasant little while that follows, in Matt's estimation. Meditative. He still wishes there were less blood in the water, but you know, in life there's usually that one little factor that's less than ideal. Instead, he focuses on the texture of Tezcatlipoca's hair as his fingers card through, the pleasure of repeating the gesture over and over. He works the conditioner in deliberately, starting at the ends and moving up, up. His fingertips rub small circles into Tezca's scalp, nails grazing here and there.
And, after a time: ]
Mmkay. [ Matt shifts forward, tipping his head towards Tezca's ear. ] You can rinse.
[ That easy, huh? He’s not surprised, exactly, since Matt has very much given him the impression that he’s just kind of down for whatever, but it still makes him laugh a little in return too. Matt’s a weird guy, but admittedly, Tezcatlipoca likes the weird ones.
It may not stop the tenderness, but Tezcatlipoca is at least more receptive to having his hair washed than kisses that feel a little too fond. He makes a pleased noise as Matt gets started, and another little sigh of satisfaction once his hands move up to his scalp. ]
Oh, yeah. You’re gettin’ that title.
[ So, it is indeed a pleasant little while for Tezcatlipoca too. He’s at least not the kind of person that won’t indulge in some relaxation. It’s just more that he doesn’t tend to seek it out. His idea of fun tends to be a little rowdier, as Matt has seen, so these quieter moments don’t come to him often.
He’s thinking about just what that title would even look like when Matt moves again, since it feels like it should be half serious and half a joke. But Matt’s voice in his ear practically banishes the thought. The proximity combined with everything else makes it feel intimate, so the sound of Matt’s voice is, well, hot. ]
First time I’ve heard those words as somethin’ flirty.
[ But he pulls away from Matt so he can move to do just that. He dips his head in the water and combs his fingers through, then lifts his head but keeps it close to the water to work out most of it with his hair still submerged. ]
You’re doin’ good on your magic reserves today, yeah? [ He laughs ] Don’t actually wanna suck you dry.
[ Matt grins for flirty, sitting back as Tezcatlipoca moves away. At the question, his expression flips into a grimace of surprise. ]
I've never had to think about it like that, [ he says, almost protesting. Which isn't strictly true, but it feels that way. Certainly, marathon spellcasting was a rare and ritual endeavor before he arrived here, one whose schedule was set by him. He didn't need to worry about getting caught at a low ebb. Matt shakes his head. ] I think I'm good, though. Haven't cast much today.
[ While Tezcatlipoca rinses out his hair, Matt reaches for his top button. As a matter of privacy, he favors long sleeves and high collars these days, and tends to button his shirts to the throat. It feels a bit constricting, but he doesn't have to keep that part up for long. Just until D's bite finishes healing. ]
I'm a little disappointed you've seen me naked before, actually, [ Matt muses, as he flicks open that first button. Then a second. ] It won't be much of a reveal.
[ The grimace makes him laugh, and he just shrugs as he continues to work the conditioner out of his hair. ]
Ain’t your fault, at least. Part of bein’ a Servant is just bein’ a sponge for magical energy, so that’s just the way it goes. [ A pause, and then: ] Well, unless I’m doin’ all the fuckin' I guess, but I wasn’t plannin’ on bein’ that selfish.
[ Like, Matt’s been pampering him? It feels like the least he can do to return the favor somewhat, even if it’s just sucking Matt's dick. He does also watch as Matt unbuttons his shirt with a smile that’s a little mischievous, and it turns into a full-on grin. ]
Hey now, this is a big improvement. You ain’t covered in dirt this time, so I can see what’s goin’ on better. [ He’s half teasing, but also… No, really, though. ] Ain’t like this was a particularly grand reveal for me, so we’re even.
[ Matt laughs, though still with a bit of a grimace, at covered in dirt. The sense memories of choking on earth, of clawing his way to the surface in a frantic, weirdly sticky flail of limbs, are all right there if he gives himself a moment to think about them. He's suddenly deeply grateful to be like, baseline clean, with the only residue on his person a pleasant hint of rose oil.
He smiles at Tezca as he flicks open buttons, letting his shirt slip from his shoulders. ]
I like getting fucked, [ he notes, warm and amused. ] If it's by the right person.
[ Not to put too fine a point on it, but most people can meet his standards with a bit of effort. Or with a sufficiently aesthetic lack of effort. ]
I like a lot of things, [ Matt adds, as he rises from the stool to undo his trousers. Pushes them down along with his underwear, revealing ungrandly: his Shard, the emerald lotus over his heart; the Hanuman tattoo curling around his right hip; chickeny calves and a surprisingly good butt; and, when he turns to fetch Tezcatlipoca a towel, the serious-looking tattoo over his left shoulder blade. Interlocking black and gray lines, severe letters in Aramaic, Latin, Greek. ]
[ Once the shirt slips from Matt’s shoulders, Tezcatlipoca hums appreciatively for the view, but his attention ends up getting drawn to the still-healing wound on his neck. That gets the lazy smile to drop, since he wouldn’t exactly question Matt having it if not for the conversation they’d had earlier. There’s a serious look on his face for a moment, but it dips into a laughing sigh as Tezcatlipoca raises his head from the water. ]
—Hope that’s an implication that I’m the right person, then. You might hurt my feelings if it’s the opposite.
[ …He’ll ask about it later, he decides. Maybe some pillowtalk would relax him some, he figures. Plus. When he’s actively stripping, that conversation would definitely ruin the casual vibe. So, he doubles down instead, since with a grin, he reaches out to give Matt’s surprisingly good butt as much of a smack as he can manage from his awkward position when he turns around. ]
[ The smack garners a small, sudden sound, almost a yip, and a little jump away. Matt whirls to face Tezca with an embarrassed grin. Yet again, one would be forgiven for wondering how he can be so DTF yet simultaneously so easily got. Wide-eyed, surprised by the touches he indulges in as often as possible. ]
It'd be rude to say if you weren't, [ he notes, still grinning. Matt takes inventory of the bathroom, deciding to leave the candles burning for the moment. He could extinguish them with a breath and a thought, but the whole magic reserves question has him thinking it's best to do things the mundane way where he can.
He does notice the way Tezcatlipoca's gaze dips to the join of his neck and shoulder, in what Matt can't convince himself is pure appreciation. Even if he weren't naked, he'd be feeling a little vulnerable. Still, he smiles gamely, and holds up the towel for Tezca to take when he's ready. ]
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[ Between getting sprayed with blood as D decapitated a ravening cannibal, feeling the blast of Byleth's inferno roiling by, and spending his own blood on spells that were potentially stupid, but definitely combat, the battle in Springstar feels like the most conflict he's had in his life.
With a few exceptions.
Still, Matt's not put off by the question. He understands it to be a signpost--or at least he thinks it is. He steps in to accept the mysterious bottle and take a sip, finding the beverage to be thick, a bit sweet, and surprisingly crisp. Acidic? It's interesting for sure. ]
The purpose of conflict. [ Matt considers. ] Well ... I guess I think of it as zero-sum. One thing has to displace another. Evolutionarily, that's, you know. Resource competition. Not everything capable of life can exist all at once.
[ He reaches for the little vial of rose oil, holding it up for Tezcatlipoca's inspection. ] Can I put some of this on you?
[ He's using a diversity of oil applications, as Tezca may have noticed. But skin-to-skin is the best way to get the benefits, in his opinion. ]
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He's also impressed by Matt’s answer, honestly, though that one isn’t expressed right away. At least it’s mostly because Matt poses him a question first. ]
…Sure, why not. Won’t be goin’ out for a bit, so I can smell like flowers. Just watch the bruises.
[ He knows he probably doesn’t have to worry about that, but he’ll at least acknowledge them. Though, before that, he does lean over to the counter to open up one of the drawers that he’s claimed as his and grab a hair tie out of it. He deftly starts to pull it up into a loose bun to get it out of the way while he talks, since it’s not like it’s getting any less messy until he soaks the blood out. ]
But you pretty much got it. Conflict is what pushes things forward. Doesn’t matter what that thing is. The world is kinda lazy, when it comes down to it. Takes the path of least resistance. So, conflict provides what’s necessary for change. Doesn’t matter if we’re talk an individual or a civilization. You gotta endure the hardship to grasp the potential it creates.
[ He shrugs as he finishes and collects the bottle again, but he just swirls it idly rather than take another drink. ]
That’s why I embrace those that reach for it. Winner or loser, doesn’t matter. I welcome ‘em to my paradise either way.
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He brightens when Tezcatlipoca accepts his offer, tipping a bit of the rose oil into his palm and wetting his fingers. He dabs oil behind Tezcatlipoca's ears, at the insides of his wrists, in the hollow of his throat. After a moment's consideration, Matt upends the rest of the vial and rubs his hands together. Gently, avoiding bruised spots, he runs his palms up Tezcatlipoca's back. Over his chest. ]
That's democratic of you, [ he approves. ] I guess where I run into questions is where, like ...
You seem very battle focused. And I think a lot of the hardship in my life is more ... I don't know, "individual versus society"? "Individual versus the self"? The idea of conflict is a bit more metaphorical.
That, and a lot of conflict as I've experienced it is-- [ He hesitates, more of a stumble as he weighs too late the wisdom of saying anything. ] It just feels like cruelty.
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Well, that’s why I say we might’ve been fated to meet. We met when those hardships suddenly became a lot less metaphorical, yeah?
[ There’s really a lot he could say here, but there’s also plenty of it that’s not strictly relevant. It’s answers to the questions like “where did the gods go”, and in his world, there are concrete answers to those kinds of questions. For Matt, who knows if that history is the same? And here in Kenos, what does it matter? So, he leaves all of that out. ]
Not to say that those kinds of struggles ain’t important, but they’re just not the kind that I dip my hand into at all. No need, basically. It’s matters of life and death that call out to me. I favor warriors and those who fight hard for their survival because who else needs looking after more? That’s part of why I ended up here, I figure.
[ He takes one of Matt’s hands with both of his and turns it so the palm faces up. He runs his fingers along the palm up to the fingertips, but it’s demonstrative more than an affectionate gesture. ]
Lots of hands here like yours, after all. A warrior with unblemished hands has a harder time standing up to the cruelty of the kinds of conflict I appear for. Doesn't mean I'll go easy on ya or let ya shirk away from what fate's picked you for—But I don't abandon those fighting for their future.
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Maybe he undersold the level of hardship he's been through. Underreported its depth, at least.
Tezcatlipoca draws his fingertips over Matt's smooth hand. Over his fingers, used to handling small tools and typing at keyboards, propagating plants and intimate touches. Matt's lips twitch.
Gently, he reaches out to encourage Tezcatlipoca's fingers back down his hand, over his fragrant, oiled palm to the much-bitten wrist. If he'll allow, Matt lifts Tezcatlipoca's hand up to his left cheek, guides it along the faint, hairline scar that he doesn't need a mirror to trace.
But before too long he pulls back, steps away. Reaches for the faucet to stop the water. With rose oil still lingering on his hand, it takes a moment's careful work. ]
Unless you want it a little fuller? [ he says. ] Otherwise, it's ready for you.
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He does look after Matt expectantly when he draws back, but he doesn’t speak to it. Matt may not say anything, but he thinks he gets the broad point of what he’s trying to convey. ]
Nah, that looks good.
[ Practical things first. Off come the pants, and— Oh, yeah. It dully occurs to him that this is actually his first time being dick out in front of Matt, since they’d never actually gotten to fooling around in the shower after that Kowloon breakfast. So, despite the serious tone of the conversation and the still serious place he wants to take it, he can’t help but laugh as he pauses on the hem of his briefs. ]
We’re comin’ back to that, by the way. [ He nods at Matt, but his eyes are clearly on his scar. ] But doesn’t quite feel right to get into when I’m about to whip out my cock for the first time.
[ He truly just says whatever, huh… But there’s no further preamble beyond his joking before he tugs the briefs off too, and casually tosses them in the pile. And his dick is not a coke can either, don’t worry. He brushes his fingers through the water to check the temperature first, then with a nod, he starts to get in. The water draws out an approving noise, and it turns into a full sigh as he sinks in. ]
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His lips twitch for whip out my cock, juxtaposed with the unexpectedly tender for the first time. He can't help thinking, in tloque, in nahuaque. He also looks, of course. But he lets his gaze skate quickly up to Tezcatlipoca's face, offering him a small smile when their eyes meet. ]
It's a little asymmetrical to have you strip down while I don't, [ he admits, eeny-meenying through a small rack where he keeps his various soaps. He comes away with a creamy bar and eyes the tub, now +1 Mexica deity. Tezcatlipoca's sigh makes him smile faintly. ] ... Hang on, [ he decides, ] I'll be right back.
[ Matt leaves the bathroom, returning a minute later with a stool. He sets up next to the tub, soap in hand, and says wryly, ] This is better. Told you it'd been awhile since I did this.
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[ He suggests it lazily, almost slurred as he leans his head back to really sink in and enjoy the water, but he does tilt his head Matt’s way as he leaves, but doesn’t ask. With the lead up there… No, he can’t imagine Matt is shy. Is he going to come back with…? Actually, he doesn’t know. But talking about stripping and then leaving makes the mind go places.
So, by the time he does return, Tezcatlipoca laughs to see that it’s just a stool. The water has a thoroughly reddish tint now, since he’d taken the time to lightly scrub off the wounds that were in the water as well as his face. With the blood washed away there, it’s clearer now that his lip got split somewhat, and there’s a cut and a bruise in progress on his brow. Nothing serious, but definitely easier to see now that he’s gotten some of the blood off. ]
Well— [ He starts, then pauses to lean towards the side Matt had placed the stool at. ] I’ll be honest with ya, even if you totally fucked it up, wouldn’t know. Didn’t exactly get baths like this, y’know?
[ Yet, if Matt had any hope that he might have escaped the line of questioning, Tezcatlipoca quickly dashes it as he reaches out and touches Matt’s bitten wrist delicately. ]
You wanna talk about it?
[ He asks, and yet… It doesn’t sound like a question with how he says it, exactly. ]
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He stops when Tezcatlipoca touches his wrist.
Wanna talk about it is so clearly not a question, and yet Matt can't imagine telling him all the gory details. For one thing, Tezca's some kind of friends with Silco. He's happy Quetzalcoatl is gone. And while Matt thinks he's slowly learning more about Tezcatlipoca's perspective, he isn't confident that the story would be received the way he'd like. Hell, he can see Tezca being disappointed in him for not fighting back hard enough.
Ignore the fact that the "being disappointed in Matt for not fighting back hard enough" call is very much coming from inside the house. ]
I don't think there's much to say. [ Matt's gaze drops to the reddish water. ] I wonder if I should just let some of this drain and top it off.
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[ Maybe that’s rude to say, but Tezcatlipoca has proven that he isn’t the kind of guy to mince words… But it is honest, and maybe his roundabout, shitty apology. It is what he feels, since Matt putting it with the context of an old scar is what made him reconsider. ]
You don’t wanna talk about it, I ain’t gonna force ya. But I’ll listen if ya do.
[ He lets go of Matt’s wrist and shrugs as he looks at the water. ]
But, nah, it’s all good. Ain’t that bloody. You should’ve seen me when I was fightin’ Deinos with my Ocelomeh when we were hoppin’ around those dreams in the Oracle. You take down a fucker that weighs a few tons and that’s bloody.
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It takes Matt a moment to place "Deinos" amid the various dreamscapes they encountered during the Advocate's trial. He sputters a laugh. ]
Oh my God, of course you got up close to those things. [ Matt dips the soap into the water. Pours a bit of water from his cupped hand to Tezcatlipoca's arm, still disapproving of the red tint, and starts to gently scrub with the soap bar.
After a moment, he exhales. ]
Some people are cruel, [ he adds quietly. Eyes on Tezcatlipoca's skin: the places he wants to avoid because of bruising, the places he can scrub and soothe. ] They probably have reasons. But all they do is reproduce the same boring, unnecessary pain, so who cares.
[ Matt makes himself breathe again. Makes himself relax, his shoulders sinking from where they've tensed. ]
I just wanted to point out that when it comes to all these questions about struggle and survival and things ... you know. There's more than soft hands to consider.
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He shifts at Matt’s touch to allow him easier access. His gaze lingers at his hands for a few moments, but not long. Even if Matt goes over a bruise, he trusts him to be gentle, he figures. So, he looks at Matt instead. Tezcatlipoca’s gaze is always intense regardless of his intentions, because his pale eyes just had that impression naturally. But it does feel all the moreso when he’s waiting and listening for an answer. ]
Sure are.
[ The fact that he agrees might be surprising, at least until he elaborates. ]
But, well, gods speak in absolutes. It’s the way we’re made. I’m conflict, darkness, sacrifice, so those are the things I speak to. The inbetweens, those belong to someone else.
[ He breathes out a laugh as he closes his eyes, because it’s easy to picture Quetzalcoatl lovingly doting on someone like Matt. That’s what Matt’s comment reminds him of in the moment, and it’s not like he doesn’t get it. Hell, he thinks he gets it far better than Quetzalcoatl would. He’s a deity far closer to humanity than any of the rest of them, but that’s doesn’t mean the sentiment is returned. That could also be sad, but it’s not something he feels for it. ]
The soft hands are a metaphor. [ Matt probably knows that, but he sighs it out anyways. Leans forward so that he can put his weight on the side of the tub like a lazy, lounging jungle cat. But his expression is more complicated than that. ] Better to say that it’s guys like you I’m more concerned about? The cruel ones that fall into my domain easily, they know what’s up. Mean fuckers are my guys.
[ But clearly, that’s not exactly Tezcatlipoca himself. He can be harsh and cruel too, but he’s also empathetic (so far as gods can be, at least) and looks after others. The dichotomy couldn’t be better represented by the moment either, with the smell of roses and the bloody water. ]
All I can do is try and arm you with the tools and experience you need to endure. Literal or otherwise.
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You're also beauty, [ Matt can't help pointing out. ] Magic. The night sky, which is ... darkness in a way. But it's where all the stars are, so.
[ Which is to say, no wonder people can find Tezcatlipoca confusing.
It’s guys like you I’m more concerned about gives Matt an unexpected pang. He can't help thinking of what Tezcatlipoca's said before--not about concern, exactly, but its near synonym. The more I care about something. Maybe that's why Matt sometimes feels less than comforted by Tezcatlipoca's general demeanor. Maybe he couldn't be warmer if he wanted to. ]
But do you ever think-- [ Matt's hands travel down Tezcatlipoca's back. His arms are nearly elbow-deep in the water, bringing them into a position that's nearly an embrace; his voice is nearly at Tezca's ear as he goes on: ] That the cruel kind of conflict isn't for anything? Like ... a kicked dog biting someone because that's all it knows. That doesn't really seem like it's worthwhile to me.
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He’s relaxed with Matt’s attentions, but as his hands start to move back, there’s just a little bit more tension that creeps in. It's subtle, but it’s not out of any concern so much as another confusing little aspect about Tezcatlipoca rearing its head. Being a god was playing a role, in many respects. So… ]
Hey now, I’m the one that’s supposed to be listening to you. You flippin’ the script on me? [ He’s not the one that gets embraced, and he feels not dissimilarly to how he had in the face of that much more urgent kiss. ] Sheesh… What a pain in the ass.
[ He complains about it, and yet, he does relax again in the almost-embrace. He sets his head on Matt’s shoulder and just closes his eyes for a moment. There’s the answer he wants to give—of course I think about it—but there’s the answer he has to give. It’s just so totally separate from a human understanding that he knows it isn’t fair to them. ]
Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Dunno and wouldn’t want to. [ He raises his head from Matt’s shoulder, but it’s only so he can pull back enough to look at him seriously. ] …What a struggle amounts to just isn’t somethin’ I control.
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He manages a few more passes with the soap before Tezcatlipoca pulls back again. This, too, gives Matt a bit of a pang, though a far less complicated one--just a wish for touch, for the soft satisfaction of feeling someone soothed, relaxed, in your arms. He meets Tezcatlipoca's sober gaze with a frowning, curious look of his own.
Then he nods, smiling faintly. ]
I see. We're supposed to make our own meaning. [ His tone carries the warmth of an inside joke, but like Tezcatlipoca, he's serious. His smile fades into thoughtfulness. ] Well, that works out. I made a promise to myself when I came here that I'd try to resist the lure of easy answers.
And besides, [ as his hands start to move again, ] it wouldn't really be fair to make gods do all the work. We mortals are supposed to meet you halfway.
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I mean… You’re right. But, fuck, don’t expect people to actually just get it.
[ Matt is more spiritual than the average modern guy, sure, but still. He’s surprised that this doesn’t turn into more of an argument, and a frustrating one at that. The disconnect Matt points out really isn’t usually one people understand, especially if they’ve encountered Tezcatlipoca of all gods. Though, granted… Matt has met him at his most laid-back.
He sighs, then reaches up to place his hand on Matt’s head and ruffle his hair fondly… And maybe with a little bit of annoyance. He doesn’t know what to do with you, Matt. ]
Well. All that aside. [ He lowers his hand back to a relaxed position and leans comfortably against Matt again too ] Whoever’s bitin’ ya, just aim for center of mass. Even if your aim ain’t great, no one’s gonna love gettin’ shot there, blood drinker or otherwise.
[ don’t ask how he knows about aim ]
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Better than validation, though--or maybe a different kind of validation--is the way Tezca relaxes against him. Into his arms. Matt hums approval, letting the soap slide gently down Tezcatlipoca's side. Rubbing it over the arch of his hip. At the advice, Matt chuckles, a breathy one that slides into a sigh. ]
Center mass. Gotcha. [ Again, he tries to picture Silco's reaction to being shot. He tries to envision surprise, but all his mind conjures for him is an angry sneer. After everything that's transpired between him and Silco, Matt realizes all he really wants is to shock him, just once.
Anyway. That's neither here nor there. Tezcatlipoca is here: warm, close. Offering what Matt interprets as the best caretaking he can. Matt leans in, smudging a kiss to Tezca's temple. ]
Want me to wash your hair?
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It’s why he laughs at the kiss and he gives Matt’s shoulder a little bite in return. It’s nothing that would pierce the skin, and it’s more akin to a playful nip. It’s an expression of how embarrassingly indulgent this feels, though naturally that’s quite hard for Matt to pick up on… Tezcatlipoca is fickle by others’ standards, but it’s more a reflection of how alien gods could be. ]
You’re gonna rot my fuckin’ teeth out. [ (complimentary) ] Yeah. I’m gonna have to designate you as my official hairdresser at this rate.
[ He reaches down and grabs the bottle from beside where he’d set it by the tub and takes a swig, but it’s with as little movement possible to pull himself away as possible. And, with another laugh, he adds: ]
You wanna fuck after this?
[ he really does just say shit huh
Or. It’s said casually and he means it casually. This is all tender and near-romantic in a way that Tezcatlipoca reflexively recoils from, so he deflects it. It’s not dissimilar to the first time they’d ended up fooling around in Kowloon, since it’s a way for him to avoid sentiment. ]
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Yes.
[ That's warm, fond. If the question was meant to shock Matt from his tender mode, it doesn't seem to have done that, but at least he doesn't pepper Tezcatlipoca with any more little kisses. (For now.) Instead, he takes down Tezcatlipoca's hair, slipping the tie around his wrist. And reaches for the conditioner he'd prepared with rose oil.
It's a pleasant little while that follows, in Matt's estimation. Meditative. He still wishes there were less blood in the water, but you know, in life there's usually that one little factor that's less than ideal. Instead, he focuses on the texture of Tezcatlipoca's hair as his fingers card through, the pleasure of repeating the gesture over and over. He works the conditioner in deliberately, starting at the ends and moving up, up. His fingertips rub small circles into Tezca's scalp, nails grazing here and there.
And, after a time: ]
Mmkay. [ Matt shifts forward, tipping his head towards Tezca's ear. ] You can rinse.
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It may not stop the tenderness, but Tezcatlipoca is at least more receptive to having his hair washed than kisses that feel a little too fond. He makes a pleased noise as Matt gets started, and another little sigh of satisfaction once his hands move up to his scalp. ]
Oh, yeah. You’re gettin’ that title.
[ So, it is indeed a pleasant little while for Tezcatlipoca too. He’s at least not the kind of person that won’t indulge in some relaxation. It’s just more that he doesn’t tend to seek it out. His idea of fun tends to be a little rowdier, as Matt has seen, so these quieter moments don’t come to him often.
He’s thinking about just what that title would even look like when Matt moves again, since it feels like it should be half serious and half a joke. But Matt’s voice in his ear practically banishes the thought. The proximity combined with everything else makes it feel intimate, so the sound of Matt’s voice is, well, hot. ]
First time I’ve heard those words as somethin’ flirty.
[ But he pulls away from Matt so he can move to do just that. He dips his head in the water and combs his fingers through, then lifts his head but keeps it close to the water to work out most of it with his hair still submerged. ]
You’re doin’ good on your magic reserves today, yeah? [ He laughs ] Don’t actually wanna suck you dry.
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I've never had to think about it like that, [ he says, almost protesting. Which isn't strictly true, but it feels that way. Certainly, marathon spellcasting was a rare and ritual endeavor before he arrived here, one whose schedule was set by him. He didn't need to worry about getting caught at a low ebb. Matt shakes his head. ] I think I'm good, though. Haven't cast much today.
[ While Tezcatlipoca rinses out his hair, Matt reaches for his top button. As a matter of privacy, he favors long sleeves and high collars these days, and tends to button his shirts to the throat. It feels a bit constricting, but he doesn't have to keep that part up for long. Just until D's bite finishes healing. ]
I'm a little disappointed you've seen me naked before, actually, [ Matt muses, as he flicks open that first button. Then a second. ] It won't be much of a reveal.
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Ain’t your fault, at least. Part of bein’ a Servant is just bein’ a sponge for magical energy, so that’s just the way it goes. [ A pause, and then: ] Well, unless I’m doin’ all the fuckin' I guess, but I wasn’t plannin’ on bein’ that selfish.
[ Like, Matt’s been pampering him? It feels like the least he can do to return the favor somewhat, even if it’s just sucking Matt's dick. He does also watch as Matt unbuttons his shirt with a smile that’s a little mischievous, and it turns into a full-on grin. ]
Hey now, this is a big improvement. You ain’t covered in dirt this time, so I can see what’s goin’ on better. [ He’s half teasing, but also… No, really, though. ] Ain’t like this was a particularly grand reveal for me, so we’re even.
nsfw
He smiles at Tezca as he flicks open buttons, letting his shirt slip from his shoulders. ]
I like getting fucked, [ he notes, warm and amused. ] If it's by the right person.
[ Not to put too fine a point on it, but most people can meet his standards with a bit of effort. Or with a sufficiently aesthetic lack of effort. ]
I like a lot of things, [ Matt adds, as he rises from the stool to undo his trousers. Pushes them down along with his underwear, revealing ungrandly: his Shard, the emerald lotus over his heart; the Hanuman tattoo curling around his right hip; chickeny calves and a surprisingly good butt; and, when he turns to fetch Tezcatlipoca a towel, the serious-looking tattoo over his left shoulder blade. Interlocking black and gray lines, severe letters in Aramaic, Latin, Greek. ]
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—Hope that’s an implication that I’m the right person, then. You might hurt my feelings if it’s the opposite.
[ …He’ll ask about it later, he decides. Maybe some pillowtalk would relax him some, he figures. Plus. When he’s actively stripping, that conversation would definitely ruin the casual vibe. So, he doubles down instead, since with a grin, he reaches out to give Matt’s surprisingly good butt as much of a smack as he can manage from his awkward position when he turns around. ]
Appreciate the view either way, though.
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It'd be rude to say if you weren't, [ he notes, still grinning. Matt takes inventory of the bathroom, deciding to leave the candles burning for the moment. He could extinguish them with a breath and a thought, but the whole magic reserves question has him thinking it's best to do things the mundane way where he can.
He does notice the way Tezcatlipoca's gaze dips to the join of his neck and shoulder, in what Matt can't convince himself is pure appreciation. Even if he weren't naked, he'd be feeling a little vulnerable. Still, he smiles gamely, and holds up the towel for Tezca to take when he's ready. ]
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