Tristain stared down at the water as it swirled into the tub. Despite his words to her, he wasn’t actually going to be getting into the bath - he wanted to be able to react if he heard his armor being moved. Instead he was just planning on stripping down and scrubbing himself next to the bath. He had also not been entirely honest with her about why he was taking the bath. While he truly did need to remove some travel dust, the real reason was to get himself away from her because he did not know how to handle a crying woman. The women of the Danse had all been rather rough and tumble sort, and he couldn’t remember them ever crying where he could see. He exhaled softly, and closed his eyes as water poured into the tub.


Sounds of movement came from the next room, sniffles and bumps, and he paused, his head tilting towards the door so he could hear better. Was she trying to leave? There was a bang against the other side of the wall followed by a pained sound and an exclamation. “Ough..”
and he frowned before shaking his head slightly, sighing as he realized she had apparently walked into a wall. She had been right by the bed - why hadn’t she gone for that, instead? It was right there. At least she wasn’t going for the door, not yet - he had left his armor scattered in front of it, balanced against each other so if they were moved they would clatter about.

When silence came, he closed his eyes again and turned back to the tub. He cut the flow of water, and dunked his head into the water, immersing himself in the water. The mercenary wanted to do this first, so he could be ready to react sooner. He had a few moments, he was sure. When he came back out, he didn’t process right away that the door between the rooms had been pushed open, nor that light was spilling in.

Her shadow blocked the light from the other room as she entered the bathroom. Hands on either side of the doorway. “Tristain?” She was staring right at him. He froze in place, his own eyes widening as he glanced down. His clothes were laying in a pile beside him.. His face, neck, and upper shoulders flushed red under her unblinking gaze.

“Ah- uh - wha- I am nake-” Right. She couldn’t see that. Tristain cut himself off. His blush deepened, and he cleared his throat. “What do you need, girl?” He tried to keep his embarrassment from creeping into his words. By the Thaynes, he’d been naked around the Danse before - they rarely had any care or concern for who was in the baths. But that was different, it was usually groups, never a one on one situation like this. He swallowed, and stepped around the tub, placing it between himself and Aynur, silently.

She walked forward. “I heard you?” She carefully shuffled forward. “look...I just...maybe I should leave. I-Ahg..” She hit the side of the tub, faltered, then grabbed the rim. His hand shot out and clasped her bicep, steadying her and preventing her from unbalancing. She looked up at him again with her milky unrelenting gaze. She was close. He could see the tiny freckles that dotted her cheeks and nose, the way her skin glistened. Stained by tears. The broken capillaries in her red-rimmed eyes.

“You do not have to, girl. You need help, and a shoulder to lean on. Perhaps once you have recovered, and are in a better place, we can part ways. But you do not truly wish to leave, do you?” It was a struggle to keep his voice even and calm, but Tristain somehow pulled it off. He thanked whoever was listening that she couldn't see him at the moment, else he might have died of mortification.

She reached out with her other hand, it fell into empty space and her eyes widened. “Oh… you haven’t bathed yet…” She must have assumed he was still clothed.

“Not yet, no.” Milky eyes regarded him for a moment, then dropped to where his hand held onto her arm.

“I’m tired…” She admitted as she circled the tub toward him. He swallowed once, and cast his eyes about for at least his pants - but they were by her feet, on the other side of the tub, and she was holding onto his outstretched arm for support as she moved. A step, and she was on the same side of the tub as he was, then she carefully slide her hand up to his shoulder. “I just...want to..to…” She paused and shifted her weight. “You...are not clothed?”

“No.” His voice was tight, strangled. She was close now, close enough that he could count the tiny freckles dotting her face.

The woman offered him a small, forced smile. “I can’t see. I do not notice these things. I apologise… nudity was never regarded as a taboo in my home. We all bathed together.” She carefully let him go and took a step back. She didn’t look embarrassed, nor put off by the fact.

“I… Am aware. Hence why I did not make an issue of it. It is fine, Aynur. You can spend time here and rest. Recover. Get your bearings.”

“I was...just …” She said softly. Aynur pulled away from his grasp and took a step back. Her heel landed on a puddle of water and her eyes widened in shock as she tried to brace herself. She slipped forward, tumbling into Tristain. Without thinking about it, the mercenary shifted slightly, twisting himself and catching her. Her head thumped against his chest, and her fingers scrabble for a second against his ribs as she tried to catch herself before realizing she was safe. He could feel her trembling body pressed tight into his. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Easy, easy. You do not need to be sorry, it was an accident.” He held onto her for a moment as she recovered her bearings, then helped her stand back up straight. He took her uninjured wrist in his hand and guided her back around the tub, to the door to the room. “Go, sit or lay down on the bed. Get some rest.” He gave a sigh of relief when she agreed to be lead to the bed and climbed in. Clothes and all. The man shook his head slightly, bemused, before making his way back to the tub. He still had to wash off, and get dressed again.

And give himself a little time away from her. Aynur was stirring up a confusing tumult of emotions, and Tristain wanted to let them settle. He took a slow breath as he closed the door most of the way, leaving a crack so he could hear if she tripped, or called out, then moved to the tub and began scrubbing himself.

It took some time, and when he was finished, the water was distinctly cool. Tristain let it swirl down the drain, carrying away some of the mix of emotions. The ache in his heart had faded,she was safe, and had not ended herself. And hopefully, would not try again any time soon. He could deal with the other emotions later. He smoothly got dressed and stepped back outside, feet padding across the ground near silently, and he paused.

For all her insecurities when awake she looked pleasantly peaceful in her sleep. She slept on her back, one arm draped across her stomach. Her hair, still matted and patchy fell around her small round face. As he drew closer she stirred, groaned then shifted. Rolling over to the side of the bed, leaving a wide space behind her. He shook his head slightly - they did not know each other well enough for him to feel comfortable sharing a bed with her, even if they were both dressed.

Instead, he gently pushed her back onto her back, ignoring her sleepy mumbles, and plopped himself down on the floor, his back resting against one of the walls. The floor was at least mostly clean, so he had definite slept in worse conditions. He didn't sleep right away though, instead staring ahead as his mind churned and turned. Taking on a second person would add onto his travels, would make earning a name for himself a bit more difficult - but as he had said, he could not ignore someone who needed the same help that he had once so desperately needed.

Not without being unable to look his surrogate father in the eye, if and when he returned to the Danse. These thoughts chased each other around in his head as he sat there, listening to Aynur shift and stir every so often in her sleep. When sleep finally overtook him, it did so subtly, without warning, drawing him into its dark embrace without a whisper.