Prelude to a Bath

Context:

First there was a scuffle, then there was this:

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Jaina ran the last few steps to Suitov and lifted her heavy arms to embrace him. It hurt in a good way. She held him longer than she meant to, unaware that she trembled slightly all the while.

He was on his feet by now and had put aside the badly-written cookbook he was reading. Jaina, and looking injured (figuratively as well as literally)? Something interesting afoot.

The hug was more sudden than had been usual for the pair. After a split second's surprise he put his arms around her. "What in the worlds--? Whatever's the matter?"

"Nothing," she lied, but her hand crept unbidden to nervously twist her hair. It found the tear in her shirt instead. "Oh. That. I -- uh --"

What could she say? Already she felt herself blushing bright. "I had a little disagreement."

"With a vampire? Are you hurt?"

"No..." Jaina's skin glowed faintly because of her ambivalence. "And I'm fine, really, but -- with Weft."

She pulled away from him and steeled herself for a unhappy reaction.

"Oh, really." His voice had indeed dropped, but the true target of the reaction became clear when Suitov glanced towards the back of the building through somewhat narrowed eyes. "And what did Weft have to say?"

"Mind games, mostly." She wasn't sure she wanted to get into the details. "I think he wants me to unnerve me. He's good at it, too."

She drew her hands before herself, where they busied themselves with holding her shirt's tear closed.

"I was scuffed before that happened, though." Then I got moreso, but she didn't say that part.

He was going to have to get the full story. A quick interrogation of Basaltine confirmed it. Gently, though. "Would you like my jacket?" he asked, preparing to shrug it off. For the sake of her selfconsciousness more than the weather; it was a mild day.

Jaina blushed again and nodded. "Am I that transparently uncomfortable?"

Before replying, Suitov wrapped the coat around her shoulders. It was black, tabby weave, with his homeland's typical double border around the collar and edges. Robustly made. Soft lining. The noble, meanwhile, looked equally at ease in shirt sleeves.

"It is upsetting to see you uncomfortable, unnerved or most other sorts of un-," he said finally. "What mind games did he play?"

The invitation tipped Jaina's wavering decision. "He claimed that you resemble a -- a vampire, and that that's why I'm fond of you!"

This revelation would perhaps impress more if Jaina had not taken such a piqued tone.

Not what he had been expecting. Not at all. Suitov let his surprise show, and more; he moved back far enough to raise his left hand, feeling his top teeth with his thumb. The canines were of a normal length.

"I can't seem to find any fangs," he said. "Vampire. Really. Well... is he correct?"

Inwardly, he chid himself. He knew how important this must be to Jaina, and yet all her disclosure had achieved was to make him more anxious than ever to meet one.

She didn't see where he was going at first, but when she did, the absurdity got her to laugh. Her glimmer faded out. "Right, no fangs, no observed predilection for raw meat, yes pulse, yes body heat -- you're a little cooler than most, but still warm -- and no apparent weakness in sunlight."

By the time she finished listing differences, her smile had brightened. "You, sir, are a living, breathing goofball." My goofball? she mused silently, leaning her head against his shoulder. The thought was not one of possession but of equality.

"Definitely breathing. Known for it." And the heartbeat may have been marginally quickened. It was hard to say. "Besides being insulted by Weft, there's another pastime we have in common."

She still hadn't looked him directly in the face. Suitov gently captured her chin and turned it so that her eyes met his.

Jaina met his eyes at last. "Good." Most anything in common with him would be good, she decided.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I reacted to Weft like I did. He kept trying to suggest that something was wrong with us, with our being together. It shouldn't have bugged me like that." But it did, even in Weft's absence.

Was she going to elaborate? No, clearly not. Which left a decision to be made.

He wasn't exactly keen on the idea. It was underhand. Still... if Jaina had any kind of insecurity and Weft had caught wind of it, things would only get worse. It was best that he knew now. For her sake.

"You know..." he began aloud, and struck. Gently, even though he knew she wouldn't feel a thing. There was anger at Weft, at herself for listening to Weft, and, ah... social status. She was worried about class. Not exactly surprising, especially knowing Weft's inhibitions. Yes, he'd expected something like this at some point. And Suitov knew what he needed to say.

"He has told me once or twice that you're too good for me. You, out risking your life night after night for something important, and me, hiding behind a shield wall with the other spellslingers; a petty warlord out of hundreds." He sighed -- careful not to overdo it. "Is that what he said? I wouldn't blame you if that concerns you."

Light flickered across her face and bare arms before she managed to fight back her surprise. "Me? I'm too... that's not exactly what he said, no."

Jaina tried to remember Weft's exact wording, this time and on other occasions. "Why do you even bother?", she knew he had said. It fit. "That explains a lot, like how our tussle broke out so soon after I showed up looking like something a 'wolf dragged in." She had conveniently forgotten much of her own role in said "tussle."

She laughed self-consciously. "I can't believe I got shaken up over something so superficial."

There, one attack vector closed off -- or scaled down, anyway. Not that he would do something like that again. No. He would never let himself become dependent on telepathy. As a one-off, however... that really couldn't have gone any better.

"Superficial indeed. Besides, you look glorious." She did, too; tangled hair, smudged skin and grazed knuckles be damned. It was the laugh. It was all her laughs.

"I pity the wolf who thinks it can give you trouble. Even more so when I'm around." He flippantly shook his wrists in the recognisable manner of a mage making ready for a scrap. A nimbus of blue-white shimmered for a moment around his fingers. There, he could manage his own light show.

"Ooh, get you!" Impressed Jaina was impressed. "Now, as a matter of professional pride, I like to think you'd be mostly moral support in that situation -- but I'm glad to have you with me all the same." Jaina leaned her head against him again, basking in the sensation of belonging.

After a moment's bliss, a thought occured to her. "I could probably look more glorious after a bath..."

It stirred into action a mage who might otherwise have been content to stay right where he was.

"And we ought to find something to put on those scratches."

She nodded, sending a hank of grimy hair swinging into her face. "Ugh. I'm so glad they can't scar... and that I get instant hot water for my bath?" she said hopefully.

"Oh, certainly. Why wait for the wood stove when you've got a magician handy? Now I see why you keep me around."

"You have your uses," she said drily, then chuckled. "Thanks, in all seriousness. I feel like I've been filthy for months so I'm in a rush to get cleaned up." She did not add for you; this was for herself too.

The boiler was the most modern kind available from various worlds, given the requirement to run on simple fuels; the nature of the place made any kind of mains supply, water, gas or power, impossible. Suitov had insisted on one point: the system must have the option for a magician to heat it him- or herself.

Well, as Jaina had said, it was faster than building a fire.

A light in the bottom of the boiler turned on when it was being directly powered; this was more for the benefit of any audience than for the magician, who knew perfectly well. Suitov kept an eye on the display that would tell him when a bath's worth was heated to a nice temperature. It didn't take long. All right, so maybe he was showing off a little. The little disc flicked from green to red within Jaina's line of sight.

"Soap springs eternal. Enjoy your bath," Suitov said. He wasn't out of breath. Good. Five or so years ago this would have had him reeling.

All right, so Jaina was a little awed by the display of magic. Certainly it was the most interesting way she'd ever seen water heated.

She snickered at Suitov's wordplay. "I can manage that. Thanks again."

"Welcome. Always." He watched her heading upstairs. Afterwards he retrieved the book from outside, finished the chapter then put it away. For a while after that, he brushed his dog.

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Written by Mutt and Ree, 30 and 31 Dec 2007, edging into 2008.

Ree suggested the name. Mutt disavows all involvement.