"I am definitely having crab tonight in revenge." She swats at a few more climbing up his arms. "Let's get the rest off once we're out!" It's basically a sisyphean endeavor while they're inside. 

Yeah, fuck this.  Tim is so done with this goddamn dungeon.  He needs a change of clothing and a shower, he’s covered in crab…fluids?  Do crabs have blood?  And a comb to get the crabshell bits out of his hair.

They make it out.  And Tim immediately begins slapping crabs off his partner.  “Turn around, let me get your back - “

-she does so, dealing with anything she can reach in the front while he handles her back, and then twists and nudges him around to get the crustaceans off him. 

"Anything under your vest?" She is checking under hers, even though she can't feel anything. 

“Uh, no idea…”. Tim takes a peek down his vest, half-afraid to look.  “Okay.  No, just crab blood.  Or whatever crabs have.  Um.  Your hair looks good on you, but.  I think you’re going to need a lot of cleaning.  You have, uh.  Bits in it.  Do you maybe want some help?”

She grimaces as she tentatively runs a hand over her braided crown, "I wouldn't say no. Ugh. I should have covered it." 

“Malditos cangrejos…” He starts to carefully pick crabs out of Sara’s crown.  “I’m never going to look at a crab the same way again.  Being bathed in the blood of your enemies is supposed to be cool.  Not gross and crunchy.”

"I think it is only cool in the stories even if it isn't crab." 

She gives him another once-over for stowaways, and then starts picking a few large bits out of his hair, too. 

"We need the shower tent," she grumbles, "I'm not driving home smelling like crab." 

“Yeah.  They have us isolated so we can deal with our little friends.”  He kneels down in front of her so she doesn’t have to crane her neck to help with his hair.  After a few moments, he asks rather plaintively, “Do we really have to take some of these things alive?  I’m really not in the mood for it…”

She applies her fingers to combing chunks of crab out of his hair. 

"I know," she huffs. "But if they get orphaned they will just be normal crabs. Not evil crab wave crabs. I think I can forgive normal crabs. And maybe they can study them, so we can figure out how to kill the stupid boss crab." 

“I hate that crab.” Mmm, guiding combing.  “It was pretty badass, the way you just noped that claw.  I think we have a good shot at killing it, if we can keep it from running away.”

Comb comb comb, "If we could break more of its legs, maybe all of them on one side, it wouldn't be able to run," and that's something they know they can do. 

“Yeah.  When you had its claw, were you squeezing it with your legs or with your arms only?  I uh.  Kind of.”  Mmm, combing.  “Didn’t see.” Wait, did I finish with her hair?  Uhh.  It’s been a day.

"I could not get my legs around it properly, so only my arms." 

She finishes combing out the larger chunks and ruffles his hair lightly (her hands are covered in crab viscera anyway).

"May I carry you to the showers?" 

“Uh.”  Wha. “Y…es?”

-she snorts inelegantly, "Separate showers, Tim. Unless you want to bathe your underwear too." 

Oh.  Good. “Sorry, I’m a little punch-drunk.  Um.  We can shower separately.  I don’t think anything I wore today is going to see another use.”  He glances over at his LBE contemplatively.  “Maybe the vest.”

"Agreed." Even if her pants are still mostly together, she suspects the smell of crab is unlikely to fade. 

She goes to lift him up into a bridal carry, since he hadn't protested. 

He curls all the way around her, seeking skin like an eagle seeking a thermal.  He’s tired.  Hiking is tiring.  Shoveling snow is tiring.  Fighting giant enemy crabs is damn tiring.  And keeping his power going at high levels on a target over sixty feet away is pretty exhausting.

He’s just.  Not going to do anything that requires effort.  Except cling to Sara.

And sleepily mumble, ”You keep carrying me.”

"Mhm," she nods, holding tight to him as she carries him over to the shower tent. 

The showers are individual stalls separated by waterproof dividers. Inside, Sara attempts to set Tim on a stool in one of them.

He gives a weary thumbs up of appreciation.  “I coulda walked, you know…”. But I’m very glad I didn’t need to.  “I’m just going to dump these in a trash can.”  Will Sara let him close the curtain and shower in peace?

"Of course," she shakes her head, smiling. 

She will, yes. She will go to the next stall and get started on her own shower, in the meantime. 

It won't be the last one of the night, probably. Ugh crab in her hair.

He tried, Sara.  He tried.

Tim has decided the most efficient way to clean himself is to just sit under the showerhead and let the water wash over him.  Unfortunately, he knows from experience that the showers are limited and will run out.  So after a few minutes of mild disassociation he summons the heroic willpower necessary to clean himself up.

“Still in the shower stall?

"Yes," she has unwound her hair now and is working her latest shampooing out. 

“Cool.  I’m coming out, then.”  Tim is blessed with quite a bit less hair, and is sincerely glad he doesn’t own a mustache.  That would have been…problematic.  “I feel better now.  You doing okay?”  Where’s the towel…aha.  Dry off.  Then I can get dressed.

"My hair will need at least one more wash when we get back, but I think I will be out soon." Squeeeeeze the crabby water out and then she rolls it around her shoulders. "Let me know when I can come out."