He shrugs.

"Honestly...I don't think it's as hard a line as people say it is."

"Wouldn't surprise me. Just hard to find an opportunity to learn one side when you've already learned some of the other."

"Yeah, makes sense. I'm just a little fucking miracle of probability."

He says it as a joke, but he actually does feel a little special.

"Mmhmm."

“...I should probably shower before I do...literally anything else.”

"Sounds like a plan. I dunno how your ship's kitted out but mine's pretty nice if you want to use it."

“...okay, mine’s pretty good, but now I wanna try yours just in case.”

"All right."

It's behind one of the doors in her room; the entire space is tiled in glittery blue and green and brown, and a short counter by the door holds a sink and a collection of soaps and shampoos - large bottles of unscented and heavy-duty cleaners, and a collection of small bottles in a variety of floral and fruity scents. The showerhead is past that, a large one with a lever to adjust the pressure and a separate, smaller handheld one - and when he turns the water on, he doesn't have to wait for it to warm up, it's just immediately hot.

...this is an incredibly nice shower.

He soaks for a while, scrubs himself down with the unscented soaps, and then tries one of the little bottles. He has never smelled like jasmine until now. It’s sort of nice.

Fluffy towels afterwards, yay or nay?

There's one on the back of the door but it's probably Dusk's.

...Hmm.

Well, time to walk out of the bathroom dripping wet and naked to look for a towel. Nothing wrong with this.

The bedroom is empty (well, 'empty', it's still so full of art) and one of the two doors he hasn't been through yet is open. The room on the other side of it is dimly lit, but he can see Dusk moving around near the far wall.

Well, asking is worth a shot.

”Any towels in here?”

"Yup, getting one." And there it is; she throws it at him. (It's just as fluffy as the other one, maybe even a little more.)

He loves this towel. He loves it so much.

He dries himself off, and...

Wow. This room is gorgeous.

He can’t help but look around a little before he picks up his clean clothes.

She gives him a few seconds and then beans him with a washcloth. "Pants!"

Okay, he can’t help but laugh.

”Okay, okay! Not my fault it’s pretty in here!”

He puts on pants. And neglects the shirt.

She's chuckling too as she comes out of the back room. "You're getting enough ideas without me letting you hang around pantsless."

"Pants are overrated."

He sits down on the end of the bed, just because he can.

"And I'm not getting ideas! Just because I'm psyched up about you electrocuting me..."

There's a thump from the remaining unopened door, and Dusk snorts. "Change topic."

Deeply dissatisfied internal grumbling.

He grabs and applies his shirt.

"Uh..."

Dammit. He can't think about a new topic, he's all stuck on having someone hit him with lightning until he passes out and then waking him up to do it again.

(Not now, boner.)

Snicker.

"Or we can take it outside. Daisy just doesn't want to have to listen."

"Aww. Sorry, Daisy!"

Now he feels too bad for the robot to talk vaguely dirty about violence.

"She doesn't like, uh, hearing about that, huh."

"Apparently not. Anyway, we've got a couple hours before dinner, whatever you want to do with it."