[ When he's done pouring the drinks and setting them down on the vanity by the first aid kit, he makes his way over to his dresser, pulling out a lesser-worn shirt. Due to the height difference between them, nothing more than a shirt's really required to cover everything -- offering her a pair of his pants would be pure mockery.
And so he opens the bathroom door just a fraction to slide the shirt in where she can get to it, leaving her to her privacy -- see? He has a sense of fucking privacy -- before he returns to the vanity. He leans a hip against it, sipping idly at his drink as he waits for her. He'll give her five minutes, he decides, before he checks up on her if she isn't out by then. It's really not his fucking responsibility if she drowns in the bathtub or something, but that's not likely to go down well with the witches.
Christ, he was fucking sleepy, but. Had been sleepy before, even if he hadn't been able to get to sleep. He was exhausted. ]
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And so he opens the bathroom door just a fraction to slide the shirt in where she can get to it, leaving her to her privacy -- see? He has a sense of fucking privacy -- before he returns to the vanity. He leans a hip against it, sipping idly at his drink as he waits for her. He'll give her five minutes, he decides, before he checks up on her if she isn't out by then. It's really not his fucking responsibility if she drowns in the bathtub or something, but that's not likely to go down well with the witches.
Christ, he was fucking sleepy, but. Had been sleepy before, even if he hadn't been able to get to sleep. He was exhausted. ]